Ya Had a Bad Day
by moogsthewriter
Summary: Response to a challenge on PsychFic. Shawn's having a bad day  and it just keeps getting worse. Will he even be able to survive it? Shules, and some major Shawn whumpage. Complete!
1. Did Someone Order an Early Morning Wake

_A/N: Alrighty dighty! This is my first Psych fic ever. For those of you who may be venturing over from my TMNT fics, check my profile for an update on "To Err Is To Be Human" if you're interested. As for the rest of you... some of you have already read this, I'm sure, but for those of you who haven't, welcome aboard! I always appreciate reviews (mainly because they remind me to post more), but I won't hold back on the chapters if I don't get reviews, so you don't have to worry about that. This chapter is a little short, but I promise they get longer! Enjoy!_

**_Disclaimer: I don't own Psych or anything affiliated with Psych. Or Pirates of the Caribbean, for that matter._**

**Did Someone Order an Early Morning Wake Up Call?**

_1988_

_Eleven-year-old Shawn Spencer's keen ears jerked him from sleep. He could hear his father's gruff voice down in the kitchen. Slipping out of bed, he snuck out of his room and down the stairs, using the stealth techniques his father had taught him. As he got closer, he heard more and more of his father's conversation._

_"And you're sure there's no one else who can help you?" Henry Spencer was saying. Shawn peeked around the corner and saw his dad leaning against the kitchen counter, still in the sweatpants and undershirt that he slept in. "Okay. Okay, Edna. Give me twenty minutes and I'll be there. No problem. Bye." Henry hung the phone back up and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose with his right thumb and forefinger. "Shawn, what are you doing out of bed?" he called without looking at the doorway._

_Shawn sighed at his discovery and stepped into the kitchen. "I heard you talking on the phone. What's wrong?"_

_"Mrs. Johnson thinks her heater is out, and her husband is out of town. The maintenance man isn't answering his phone, so she wants me to go over and fix it," Henry said._

_"At two-forty in the morning?" Shawn squeaked, his keen eyes taking in the time on the wall clock._

_Henry came forward and knelt in front of his son. "Shawn, someday you'll receive a call for help from someone. It may be at two in the morning, or at six o'clock at night. But you have to realize when people really need your help, you've really got no choice."_

_"Why? Can't she just get the heater fixed in the morning?"_

_"She could," Henry replied with a sideways nod of his head. "But that means that she'll be spending the night in a very cold house, and little Jimmy might get sick. You know Jimmy, right?"_

_"Sure, he's in the class under me," Shawn replied with a shrug. His eyes widened. "Oh. He's the one that always gets sick, right?"_

_"Yep," Henry answered with a quick nod. "So if we wanna help keep Jimmy healthy, then I have to go over there and take care of the problem now."_

_"I get it," Shawn said with a small smile. "You better get going, then, Dad - after all, you've got no choice!"_

_Henry couldn't hold back a smile. "Aye-aye, kiddo. And you better get to bed. Go on, now!" he declared, giving his son a gentle shove back towards the stairs._

_Present Day_

"Mph," Shawn Spencer groaned, rolling over as his phone rang incessantly next to him. His bleary eyes peered at the alarm clock. "Who on earth would be calling at three-thirty?" he moaned, blindly reaching for the phone. "H-hello?" he asked, stifling a yawn.

_"Shawn, oh, thank goodness you answered!"_

Shawn blinked a few times, trying to place the voice with a name. "Mrs. Mahoney?" he asked, sitting up a little straighter. He clicked on his bedside lamp. "What's wrong?"

_"It's my heater, I think it's gone out!"_

Shawn couldn't help but smirk at the ironic resemblance between this situation and the dream he had just been having. "Let me guess - the maintenance man isn't answering his phone?"

He heard the elderly woman chuckle. _"Right you are. You really are psychic, aren't you? I had mentioned earlier this week that I thought it might be going out, and what does that man do? Promptly heads out on a vacation without bothering to take a look at it!"_

"Don't worry, Mrs. Mahoney. I'll head right up," Shawn reassured her.

_"You're such a good boy, Shawn! Your parents must be proud to call you their son!"_ Mrs. Mahoney gushed.

Shawn rolled his eyes but didn't respond. "Give me a few minutes to get dressed, Mrs. Mahoney, and I'll be right there."

_"Oh, thank you, thank you! And how many times must I tell you to call me Elizabeth?"_

Shawn resisted the urge to drop into a British accent as he replied, "At least once more, Mrs. Mahoney. As always."

To his surprise, she replied, _"That's from one of those new pirate movies, isn't it? I just can't remember which one at the moment…"_

"Bitter cold can do that to a mind. I'll be there soon. Bye!" Shawn answered with a chuckle. He hung up the phone and rubbed his face. _If I can get this done quick, I can add another two hours of sleep to my three before the sun comes up,_ he thought with a yawn as he stood and grabbed some clothes.

_A/N: The next chapter will be up shortly! Thanks for reading!_

_moogsthewriter_


	2. Coffee with Sugar Spilled, Not Stirre

_A/N: Here's the next part. I think I'll try to update once every couple days or so. Thanks to all of you who have read, reviewed, and added alerts - I really appreciate it! Standard disclaimer applies, and I don't own anything associated with Wal-Mart or Starbucks. Enjoy!_

**Coffee with Sugar... Spilled, Not Stirred**

Five and a half hours later, a much grumpier Shawn was driving on his bike towards the SBPD headquarters, a cup of Starbucks coffee clenched loosely between his legs. At first, the problem in the heater had seemed minor. Then Shawn had discovered that a part needed to be replaced, and so, with a little motivation from some of Mrs. Mahoney's famous chocolate chip cookies, he had made his way over to the Wal-Mart down the street that was always open. After spending over an hour searching for one little part, Shawn found it in the first place he looked, which irked him to no end, especially since it meant his "razor sharp" skills were off. Blaming it on the sleep depravation, he had high-tailed it back to his apartment complex, bypassing his own comfortable bed on the way up to Mrs. Mahoney's third-floor apartment.

Contrary to his high hopes, however, the heater still hadn't worked, even after he beat up his hands in an effort to get the thing working. Four cookies, another hour and a half of scouring Wal-Mart, and several severely bruised knuckles later, the heater had come to life. Of course, by that time it was almost seven-thirty, and Shawn knew he would never be able to go back to sleep. He left the apartment, lying through his teeth to sweet old Mrs. Mahoney, reassuring her that it was no problem at all, before heading over to a local diner for some breakfast, grumbling the whole way. He had nearly had a conniption when the waitress at the diner informed him there was no pineapple that day, and had settled for a small meal of scrambled eggs and toast.

After nearly falling asleep in his meal three times, he had made his way over to a nearby Starbucks and had ordered a Venti coffee with four sugars and some cream. Then he had promptly spilled close to a third of the hot beverage on his favorite pair of jeans as he had climbed back onto his bike. He made a brief stop at his apartment to change, spilled a little more coffee on his shirt as he had taken a quick sip on his way back down the stairs, and had stubbed his toe on the concrete block. Now he was heading in solo to the SBPD, since Gus was at a pharmaceutical convention in LA, and he was desperately hoping for a case to occupy his mind. _Because after all,_ he thought wryly as he pulled his bike into a parking space, _how could this day possibly get any worse?_

He worked hard to suppress a stream of curses as more coffee sloshed out onto his shirt when he tried to take another sip.

He made his way through the doors of the SBPD, _carefully_ taking a small sip, pondering over the fact that his coffee was nearly half-gone at this point, and he had only been able to take a few quick sips. His eyes fell on friendly face, and he hurriedly swallowed his coffee to exclaim, "Hey, Jules!"

Juliet O'Hara turned and glanced over the pseudo-psychic briefly. "Rough night?" she asked, taking in the dark bags under his eyes and the coffee stains on his shirt.

Shawn nodded faintly, taking another sip of coffee. "I've been up since three-thirty trying to fix a heater for my neighbor," he said wearily, leaning on her desk. His eyes took in her rather attractive business suit, the files clutched in her hand, and the memo on her desk. "Court day?" he queried, twirling the cup gently in his hand in an effort to get the sugar to mix back in.

"How'd you - never mind. Yeah, for the O'Riley case," Juliet replied, gathering a few more files before moving to head for the door. "Nice to see you, Shawn - catch ya later!" she called over her shoulder as she breezed out of the office.

"Good luck!" Shawn called. "Knock 'em dead," he muttered as she disappeared. He turned to scan the rest of the office. "Lassie face!" he called, spotting the head detective in his little "office".

Carlton Lassiter's shoulders tensed as he got to his feet and glared at the psychic. "What the hell are you doing here, psychic?" he asked with a hint of a sneer. "As far as I know, your services were never called on today."

Shawn shrugged, taking another sip of coffee and grinning. "I sensed that you're going to need my help closing a case today," he replied.

Lassiter chuckled humorlessly. "I don't think so, Spencer," he growled. Suddenly he reached forward and yanked the coffee cup out of Shawn's hand.

Shawn spluttered in astonishment. "Lassie - what the - that's mine!" he choked out.

"Spencer, the last thing you need is coffee… with lots of sugar, apparently," Lassiter declared with a frown, taking the lid off and tilting it to the side to peer at its contents. He looked back up at Shawn's shocked face. "I think it's best for everyone's sanity if I just go and dump this," he added, striding over to small break room.

Shawn stood there, dumbfounded at what had just happened. "But Lassie, I need that!" he suddenly whined, taking off after the older man.

"Trust me, Spencer, the only thing you need is a psychiatrist," Lassiter called as he entered the break room. Shawn burst in a second later just as Lassiter dumped the contents down the sink.

Shawn clenched his teeth together painfully, struggling not to scream at the detective. "Dude, I'm not kidding. I really needed that," he ground out, clenching his fists.

Lassiter turned to open his mouth in reply when the door creaked open and a harsh female voice barked, "Lassiter! Spencer! What's going on in here?"

"He stole my coffee, Chief! I barely even had any!" Shawn exclaimed, whirling around to face Karen Vick.

"What are you talking about, Spencer? The thing was over half gone!" Lassiter cut in.

"I know, but that was only because-"

"Spencer, I don't want to hear it!" Vick cut in, holding up a hand. "Carlton has a point, you really don't need any coffee. And what are you doing here?"

Shawn stared at her for a beat with one eyebrow raised before replying, "Are you like channeling each other's spirits or something? Because I'm sensing one very strong force here."

Both Lassiter and Vick rolled their eyes at the same time. "Not today, Spencer," Vick said with a sigh. She eyed the younger man closely, her gaze lingering particularly on the coffee stains on his shirt. "It's a slow day here - we don't need you. Go home and get some sleep - you look like you need it," she ordered finally, spinning on her heel and walking out.

"But - but -" Shawn spluttered.

He was suddenly shoved forward as Lassiter came up and pushed him in the small of his back. "You heard the chief, Spencer. Out," the detective growled.

Shawn's entire body stiffened and he spun away from Lassiter. "Fine! Fine! This day already sucks anyway. I don't know why I thought coming here would make it any better!" he proclaimed angrily. Lassiter stared at him with something akin to shock as the normally happy psychic stomped his way past the other officers and out the door. The detective's eyes met the Chief's eyes, who also seemed rather perturbed by Shawn's outburst.

"What the hell was that all about?" Lassiter declared finally, making his way back to his desk. Vick paused with one hand on her door, chewing her lip and staring out at the door where Shawn had exited.

"I'm gonna go find out," she said finally, grabbing her coat and heading out after her psychic detective. Lassiter sighed and opened a file, propping his feet up on his desk and taking a sip of his own cup of coffee.

_A/N: More tomorrow! Thanks for reading!_

_moogsthewriter_


	3. The Rains Came Down and the Baddies Came

_A/N: As promised, here is the next section. I've got a few shout-outs to my reviewers to give here a sec, so just bear with me..._

_**PsychFan81692** - Thanks for review! Hope this was soon enough for you!_

_**FanFicFreak-33** - I wanna give Shawn a hug, too... well, just for the sake of hugging him! Thanks for reviewing both chapters so far - enjoy this next one!_

_**Niente Zero** - I can't honestly say I'd fight someone who took my coffee, mainly because I don't really like coffee! But I've got plenty of friends who do, and that's a common reaction! Thanks for your reviews - I really appreciate it!_

_**Streak13** - Yeah, bad days really suck, don't they? And trust me... Shawn's is about to get much worse._

_**Tigger66** - Glad you liked the first chapter! Thanks for the review!_

_I'll warn you all now... this story is basically whumpage - in the extreme. So if you're not a fan, you might as well get off this train now! As for the rest of you, enjoy this next chapter!_

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**The Rains Came Down and the Baddies Came Up**

"Stupid Lassie, stupid coffee, stupid day!" Shawn ranted as he made his way over to his bike. He glanced up as a rumble echoed overhead. A moment later, the cloudy sky gave way to a torrential rainfall, and within thirty seconds, Shawn was soaked to the bone. He stared up at the sky, fat raindrops splashing in his eyes and into his mouth as he screamed, "Does the world just hate me today?"

Suddenly something collided with him, causing his body to rotate around. His eyes jerked back down slightly and he found himself staring into a pair of dark brown eyes. Shawn had to work hard not to quail away from the giant of a man. His dark hair hung in strands over his face, plastered down by the rain, and his white, rain-soaked t-shirt revealed a very beefy upper torso. His lips were pulled back in a sneer, revealing two gold-capped teeth. "Can I help you?" Shawn asked, just barely keeping a quiver out of his voice.

The man opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by Chief Vick's cry of, "Spencer! Wait up a minute!"

"Yeah, Chief?" Shawn replied, turning to face the blonde woman. His face suddenly scrunched up in pain as the beefy man grabbed his right wrist and twisted his arm behind his back. "Hey, what-?" Shawn's pain-filled protests were effectively silenced when he felt cool metal rest against his throat. In front of him, Vick froze, a look of horror on her face when she saw the large man holding a gleaming switchblade to Shawn's throat.

"Don't even think about making a sound, or I'll slit him open," the man called warningly.

Vick held up her hands. "Take it easy, Mr.-"

"O'Riley. Vince O'Riley."

"O'Riley? Like the one that's on trial today?" Shawn couldn't help but exclaim. His cry fell silent when the felt the edge of the knife dig in a little.

"You'd do best to keep your mouth shut," O'Riley growled. "And yeah, that's my brother you've got over in your courthouse."

"What do you want?" Vick demanded, pushing her rain-soaked hair out of her eyes.

O'Riley laughed once. "I want you to release my brother, _Chief._" He spat the last word with contempt. "Or I'm gonna kill psychic-boy here."

"Well, this day just keeps getting better and better," Shawn groused.

Vick shot him a sharp look before saying, "I'm afraid I can't do that, sir. Your brother is already at the courthouse. I can't call in to have him released."

"You'd better figure out a way to get him out, then, lady," O'Riley sneered. He didn't turn around as a dark green compact car came roaring up behind him. "Otherwise, you can say goodbye to pretty-boy," the crook added as the car screeched to a stop. "Don't follow us." The trunk and one of the doors suddenly flew open and before Vick could even move, O'Riley had shoved Shawn headfirst into the trunk, slammed the lid shut, and leapt into the open door. As the car pulled away, Vick rushed forward, hoping to at least catch the license plate. Her heart sank - the plate was practically covered in mud. She could only make out the letter X in the middle of the plate.

Immediately the chief whirled, rushing back up the steps and bursting into the police station. "Alright, people, we've got a situation here!"

Lassiter was immediately on his feet. "What's the problem?" he demanded as Vick strode up forcefully to him.

"Get O'Hara on the phone - tell her she needs to move Lance O'Riley into holding for a while," Vick ordered, shrugging off her sopping wet suit jacket.

Lassiter's face was filled with surprise. "Why?" he asked, dumbfounded.

"Because Vince O'Riley and some accomplice of his are probably on their way over as we speak, and they've got Spencer shoved in their trunk. They want to bust O'Riley out," Vick snapped, her eyes flashing. "But since I can't afford to let an accused triple-murderer back on the streets, we need to get him out of there and figure out someway to get Spencer out of that damn trunk. Understood?"

Lassiter nodded, suppressing the extreme desire to salute. "Yes, ma- I mean, got it, Chief," he stammered, nearly using the dreaded "m" word.

Vick's eyes narrowed slightly, not missing the near-slip. She chose to ignore it, turning slightly and barking, "McNabb!"

Buzz rushed over immediately. "Yes, Chief?"

"Pull all the security footage from the station parking lot, and tell the techs to look for a front license plate on the green Audi that currently contains our psychic. The back plate was too caked with mud for me to be able to read it. Let me know as soon as you got something. Oh, and while you're waiting, pull everything we have on a Vince O'Riley and any known accomplices who have worked with him or his brother - someone was driving that car, and I wanna know who. Got it?"

"On it, Chief!" Buzz exclaimed, already heading off to carry out his work.

"Good. If you'll excuse me, I've got another phone call to make," Vick said, a sigh in her voice.

Lassiter raised an eyebrow as he pulled out his cell. "Who?"

"Henry Spencer," Vick replied before closing her door. Lassiter winced in sympathy as he sent a number to O'Hara's pager. Her phone was more than likely off, since she was in a courtroom.

"You'd better not ignore that," he muttered angrily, glaring daggers at his phone, the beginnings of a headache pulsing at the back of his head. _Only Spencer would make concern manifest itself in a headache, _he thought ruefully. He sighed and rubbed his temples. How was it that even on a slow day - when the psychic wasn't even in the building - Shawn Spencer was able to aggravate him?

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Juliet O'Hara sighed again as O'Riley's lawyer raised another objection, which was once again shot down by the judge. She glanced at her watch and rolled her eyes in annoyance. _It should _not_ be taking this long to interview a model,_ she thought, staring at the drop-jaw gorgeous, and slightly brain-dead, red-head model on the stand. There were still another two witnesses to go before she was scheduled to be called, and if this bumbling public defender didn't step it up a little bit, this case was likely to go on until she married Shawn (_which,_ she thought, _will _never_ happen… not that a girl can't dream once in a while_). 

She was jerked from her stupor by a vibrating sensation coming from her right hip. She automatically plucked her beeper up off her belt, her forehead creasing slightly. _Everyone knows I'm at court today - who'd be paging me?_ The lines in her forehead deepened slightly when she saw Lassiter's number followed by one word - _NOW_.

She immediately pulled out her cell phone and texted her superior. _What? I'm supposed to testify soon! _

She hit "SEND" and waited nervously for a moment, the model's annoyingly high-pitched voice hitting her ears like nails on a chalkboard. She chewed her lip nervously - if Lassiter was contacting her in the middle of a trial, something was seriously wrong.

The light on her phone lit up, giving her a silent alert to a text. She flipped the phone back open, faintly wondering when Lassiter had learned to text so fast, and read the message with wide eyes. _Defendant's brother on way. Has S.S. as hostage. K.V. says get def. out - NOW. _

Juliet's head shot up just as the attorney declared, "No further questions, your honor."

"Your honor!" she exclaimed, getting to her feet. Everyone around her started murmuring and whispering, creating the effect of a faint breeze.

The elderly judge stared at her severely. "Detective, I'm not exempt from throwing you out of this room until it is your turn to testify," he said sternly.

"Sir!" Juliet pleaded, making her way to the bench. She leapt over the wooden barricade, ignoring the protests of both the defense and the prosecution. She dropped her voice to a hiss so no one could overhear. "O'Riley's brother is on his way to get him out of here. He's got a hostage - a consultant for the police department. The chief wants O'Riley moved immediately before his brother can get here."

The judge's widened in surprised. He banged his gavel a few times, loudly calling, "Court is adjourned for the moment. Bailiff, take the defendant to the lower holding room until further notice. Trust me, gentlemen, everything will be explained in due time," he added, holding up a hand and effectively cutting off questions from both the defense and the prosecution.

"Thank you," Juliet said gratefully, pulling out her phone and pressing a speed dial. She turned away as the other line began ringing, ignoring the commotion around her.

"Lassiter," her partner said sharply after the first ring.

"Carlton, I got the judge to suspend the trial for the moment, and O'Riley is being placed in a holding room. What is going on?"

"Apparently Vince O'Riley came into the station parking lot with an accomplice, shoved Spencer into the trunk of his car, told the chief that if his brother wasn't released, he'd kill Spencer, and then sped off," Lassiter replied tersely.

"He kidnapped Shawn in the SBPD parking lot?" Juliet asked incredulously. "In front of the Chief?"

"O'Hara," Lassiter growled warningly.

"Sorry, sorry," the blonde hastily amended. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, keep watch from a secure position for a green Audi with the plates -" He paused for a moment, his voice muffled as he addressed someone else, then returned and continued, "26X 12J. Got that?"

"Twenty-six x's before twelve j's," Juliet recited.

"Yeah, yeah, good," Lassiter replied distractedly. Juliet cocked an eyebrow when she heard a sudden intake of breath. "He had to have been breaking every traffic law ever written to get here by now," Lassiter muttered angrily.

Juliet could hear someone cursing faintly in the background. "What's going on, Carlton?"

"Spencer, Sr. just pulled in, and he's spitting fire," the detective answered. "Listen, O'Hara, you stick around the courthouse and make sure Lance O'Riley stays in police custody. Don't approach the vehicle if you see it - Vince O'Riley is armed, not to mention he's got Spencer in his trunk. Call it in immediately. Got it?"

"Yes, sir. I'll inform the officers right away," Juliet replied sharply, working hard to suppress her fear.

"Good. Bye," Lassiter said hurriedly. He hung up before Juliet could reply.

Juliet sighed as she flipped her phone shut, pinching the bridge of her nose for a moment, psyching herself up to get into action. _Oh, Shawn, how do you always get into these situations? _

_A/N: Dun dun dunnn! Heehee! See you all tomorrow! Thanks for reading!_

_moogsthewriter_


	4. And We All Go Tumbling Down

_And we meet again! I'm glad you guys are enjoying this story! Now, for the review replies:_

_**Niente Zero** - Trust me, I'm just as sadistic as you are - if not a bit more. Glad you like it!_

_**SherryBird** - Thanks! Glad you're enjoying it!_

_**Englandlover3** - Here's the next chapter for you! I'm glad I hooked you!_

_**Tigger66** - Never fear, tomorrow is here! Thanks for the review!_

_**PsychFan81692** - Strangely enough, that never works for me... as much as I wish it would sometimes. Haha!_

_**Streak13** - Don't worry - that conversation will come up... in the next chapter. I promise!_

_**FanFicFreak-33** - I, too, am a fan of Juliet (which you will definitely see later). And it also amazes me how Shawn can end up in some of these situations - that's just how he is, I guess!_

_Thanks also to those who have added alerts and read the story - you guys rock. Just FYI, I do accept anonymous reviews, so if you feel so inclined, drop me a comment - they absolutely make my day! _

_I also apologize in advance for this short chapter. I will update tomorrow, I promise! Standard disclaimer applies... yeah, I got nothing else. Enjoy!_

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**And We All Go Tumbling Down**

_How do I manage to always get in these situations? _Shawn Spencer wondered faintly as the car vibrated beneath him. He had pulled his cell phone out of his pocket right away, but, as his luck would have it, he got absolutely no signal in the cramped space. Even if he could, he wasn't sure if it would work - it was wet from the rain. _So much for leading a charmed life,_ he thought ruefully. _I would say this day couldn't get any worse, but something tells me it could._

The one good thing about having his phone was that he could see how much time had passed through the water-logged screen. He had already been riding in the car for twenty minutes, and the car had only stopped once. From the sequence of the sharp turns, he figured they must be on the interstate. _Which is just great - who knows where I'll end up,_ he bitterly thought, rubbing his head where the car jack had made sharp contact on one of the turns.

To make matters worse, there was so much junk in the trunk that Shawn could do little more than protect his head with his arms (which he had already failed at once) from the many loose objects. He couldn't twist around to try and see if he could get the trunk open. All he could figure out was that there was a jack, a flat spare tire, an empty guitar case, lots of loose newspaper, and three cardboard boxes filled with something heavy.

He flinched when the car suddenly slowed, causing a few of the items in the trunk to slide forward. _We must be getting off now. _Shawn's eyes suddenly widened in the dark. _Wait, why did we even get on the interstate in the first place? I would've figured they would've headed straight for the police station! _As the car turned, Shawn braced his arms out to keep the boxes from sliding into him, still pondering the interstate problem. _This can't be good._ He winced as the boxes collided with his already bruised arms.

The car drove rather smoothly for another twenty minutes, lurched, then turned in the opposite direction. Shawn rolled a little bit, and the car jack clanked behind him dangerously. The car began to bounce around, and he quickly threw an arm behind his head, yelping in pain as the sharp metal dug into the back of his hand. He could feel something trickling down his hand, and held in a sigh. _And now I'm bleeding,_ he thought with annoyance. _Perfect_.

After another five minutes of extreme bone-jarring, the car came to a complete stop. Shawn heard and felt the vibrations from the car door slamming. Before he could prepare himself, the trunk lid flew open and he felt a pair of strong hands yank him out by his legs. His head collided with the side of the trunk, causing his vision to swim, and he was dumped unceremoniously on the muddy ground.

Rain quickly soaked him again, and he felt chills run throughout his body. Rough hands yanked his arms behind his back, and he could hear the harsh sound of duct tape being pulled off its roll. The sticky stuff was wrapped uncomfortably tight around his hands. Shawn squinted as he was rolled over to face the cloudy sky, trying to keep raindrops from falling in his eyes. He could see O'Riley's smirking face above him as the thug painfully slapped a piece of tape over his mouth. Shawn shook his head, trying to clear it, and glared up at the man, grunting through the gag. O'Riley merely chuckled and turned to his accomplice, a short, thin man who was holding the roll of duct tape in his hand. "You got a place we can keep him, Buck?"

"There's some old cisterns behind the barn," Buck replied with a smirk. "A couple of 'em got a buncha old water in 'em, but there's one dry one - it's real deep too. Prol'ly twenty feet or more."

"Perfect," O'Riley crowed, grabbing Shawn by the elbow and yanking him to his feet. Shawn noticed with some chagrin that his clothes were covered with mud. Any further thoughts about his appearance were driven from his mind when O'Riley shoved him forward after Buck.

Buck led them past a couple of old buildings, including a run-down farmhouse and a derelict old barn. One wall was missing, and most of the paint, which appeared to have been a reddish-brown at one point, had peeled off in giant flakes, some of which littered the muddy ground around the building. Shawn's eyes scanned the area - the road up to the farm was rutted and gouged. _Hence the very bumpy ride_, Shawn thought. Trees surrounded the entire area, and he couldn't see any other lights. _This is like the middle of nowhere!_

"Over there," Buck suddenly barked, pointing. Shawn followed his gaze and saw a cluster of four circular pieces of plywood lying on the ground. A couple of them looked half-rotten, and even at this distance, Shawn could smell an awful stench. _Man, I really wish I could breathe through my mouth right about now,_ he thought, his stomach churning.

Buck crouched down in between the closest ones and grabbed an old rope handle on one of them. With a grunt, he leaned backwards and started pulling the cover off. "Whoa!" he suddenly exclaimed as the ground beneath him crumbled slightly, causing his feet to shoot out from under him.

"You alright?" O'Riley called, his grip tightening on Shawn's arm. Shawn winced slightly.

"Yeah. These old dirt walls are starting to give though - wouldn't surprise me if this rain caused 'em to crumble completely," Buck replied, scrambling away. "You still wanna put him in there? It might flood."

"Who cares? If everything goes right, you, me, and Lance will be headin' for the border and the cops will be on their way up here in a couple hours, anyway. I think pretty boy can handle himself down there for that long," O'Riley sneered, glaring at Shawn.

Shawn's eyes widened as O'Riley shoved him closer to the now gaping hole in the earth. In the dim light, he could see the shadows of some lethal-looking stuff at the bottom of the pit. O'Riley laughed when he tried to squirm away. "Is the little psychic scared?" he mocked. The smirk on his face vanished, and he growled harshly, "Down you go!"

With those words, Shawn was shoved forward into the hole. _This is so gonna be bad! _He tried to bend his legs slightly to lessen the impact, unable to put his hands out to brace himself. He screamed into the gag as pain exploded throughout his right leg when he landed. The scream was cut short when his head collided with the side of the cistern, sending him into a blissful world of blackness.

_A/N: Umm... see you tomorrow!! flees, laughing manically_

_moogsthewriter_


	5. Gut Instincts, Super Smellers, and Start

_Hello again, friends! Glad to see you all! Now, for some review replies..._

_**FanFicFreak-33** - I know what you mean - if I had my way, I'd be right there with Juliet helping Shawn out at the end of it all. But, unfortunately, that's not really possible... so I'll just settle for Shules, I guess. Glad you like it!_

_**PsychFan81692** - Here, here! Hopefully I didn't kill you with supsense yet! Enjoy this next chapter!_

_**Niente Zero** - Yes, you're right I'm sadistic on many levels I guess. Glad you're enjoying the frequency - it's kinda nice to have something to look forward to, isn't it?_

_**mav32** - Whoa, that is so cool! You were right on all accounts - we must've been separated at birth! XDD I'll definitely have to go track down your TMNT fic, too, when I get a chance. I also have the Psych DVDs, and I love them! Glad I could save you! God bless, and enjoy this next chapter!_

_**Streak13** - Yeah, I suppose it's a good thing he's unconscious for the moment... trust me. Hopefully the Henry/Vick match meets your expectations (although I personally think it almost turns into a Lassie/Henry match...)_

_Thanks also to all my readers out there - you guys rock, too! I'll warn you all in advance... I may not be able to get the next part up for a couple of days - I'm about to go on Fall Break, so it's entirely possible that it could slip my mind, or that I just won't have time. But never fear, the next part will be up by Monday at the very, very, VERY latest, okay? I think that's all that I have... enjoy!_

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**Gut Instincts, Super Smellers, and Startling Developments**

Carlton Lassiter sighed as he hung up the phone and turned towards Karen Vick's office, where what was possibly the chew-out of the century was taking place. "You're telling me that my son was kidnapped in front of a building full of police officers?" Henry Spencer was practically screaming.

"Henry, calm down," Vick began, hands raised.

"Calm down? Calm down?" Henry hissed. His volume dropped dramatically, but the tone was still just as harsh. "You want me to calm down? I'll calm down once you figure out where Shawn is!"

Lassiter had to work to hide his surprise at Henry's obvious concern. From the little interaction he had seen between the Spencers, he could tell they had a relationship that was dysfunctional at best. Staring at the man before him, Lassiter couldn't help but wonder if Shawn's personality had developed from a need to deal with his father. "Chief, I just got off the phone with O'Hara. She got the judge to postpone the trial, and O'Riley's being moved to one of the holding cells in the basement. McNabb's got an APB out on the plates of the car," he cut in before Henry could continue his tirade. "He's driving a '95 Audi, dark green, plates are 26X 12J."

Vick shot Lassiter a grateful look even as Henry whirled around to face the Head Detective. "And?" he asked in a dangerously low tone.

Lassiter's gaze narrowed. "And I was just about inquire if I could head over to the courthouse now," he ground out through gritted teeth, standing practically nose-to-nose with the elder Spencer.

"Henry, back off," Vick snapped fiercely, stepping in between them and shooting a glare at her former partner. "Detective Lassiter has done his job well. Good work, Carlton," she added in an undertone. "And, if you could stand to keep your voice down and be civil, Henry, I will allow you to ride with me over to the courthouse. Vince O'Riley intends to free his brother in exchange for your son, so he'll probably be there shortly," she added, turning back to Henry.

Henry nodded once, glancing over the blonde's shoulder to stare at the detective again. "Sounds good," he said gruffly. Lassiter also nodded once, accepting the statement for the apology that was hidden within it.

As they headed out to Lassiter's sedan, Henry asked, "Tell me about this O'Riley guy - was Shawn involved with his case?"

Lassiter smirked. "He tried to be, but we didn't need him. Lance O'Riley's ex-girlfriend, the girl's sister, and the sister's son were found murdered in the ex's apartment. It was pretty brutal," he added solemnly. He was silent for a moment as they climbed into the car and headed out. Finally he continued, "Security tapes show O'Riley entering the building an hour before the time of death, and leaving in a hurry shortly after the murders. We found traces of blood on the steering wheel and the floor pads of his car from his hands and shoes, along with a few splinters from the bloody baseball bat he threw in his trunk. He'd burned the bat, but the wood splinters were a match to some that we found in the ex's skull. It's a slam-dunk case."

Vick pulled a file out of her attaché case and handed it over to Henry, who quickly opened it and began scanning. "O'Riley is up for the death penalty. He has two previous convictions of aggravated assault, along with a conviction of armed robbery. He was in jail for ten years, and was released June 2005. Shortly after his release, his ex began filing multiple restraining orders against him, claiming he was harassing her. He wasn't supposed to get within two hundred feet of her," she said grimly.

"What about the brother?" Henry demanded. "The one that's got Shawn?"

"We haven't managed to track down all of his accomplices yet, but Vince O'Riley's got a nice long rap sheet," Vick declared, pulling out another file. Henry looked at her sharply as he took it, his eyes searching her face. He could see hints of regret and worry in her eyes. Vick swallowed, then said, "Vince O'Riley was charged with attempted murder at sixteen, and convicted of three accounts of aggravated assault over a two year period. He's also been charged with three counts of sexual assault, two counts of attempted sexual assault, multiple drug offenses and DUI's, and two counts of assaulting a police officer."

"And this guy was out on the street?" Henry exclaimed, his eyes wide.

"He was released from a Texas penitentiary three years ago. He dropped off the radar completely. No one heard a peep out of him - until today, that is," Vick replied.

Henry was silent for a moment, a muscle working furiously in his jaw as he stared at the files. Finally he asked, "So what's the plan? How're we getting Shawn out?"

"We're going to try negotiating with him as a distraction so that a couple of our guys can go in and get him out of the trunk. Try to arrange a meeting with his brother, something that will get him away from the car," Lassiter informed him.

The elder Spencer snorted. "Some plan," he scoffed softly. Lassiter's entire body tensed, but he chose to remain silent.

"Do you have anything better?" Vick asked in a dangerously soft voice.

Henry opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by the sound of Lassiter's phone ringing. "Lassiter," the detective barked in his phone. There was a long pause. Vick and Henry could just make out Juliet's voice, but they couldn't understand what she was saying. "He's not there yet?" Lassiter asked with some surprise. "Okay, just stay put. We're on our way. Don't let O'Riley out of that room, got it? Good." He flipped his phone shut with a loud snap. "O'Hara said the car hasn't showed up yet."

"What? He should've been there long ago!" Vick exclaimed darkly.

"Not if he went somewhere else first," Henry cut in pointedly. "To drop off a hostage, for example?"

Vick swore under her breath, pulling out her phone. "We definitely need that list of contacts now," she grumbled.

"We could always talk to Lance," Lassiter suggested with just a hint of sarcasm.

There was a beat of silence in the car before Henry said plainly, "Carlton, that's the best idea I've heard yet."

* * *

Burton Guster collapsed onto the hotel bed with a deep sigh. He stared up at the off-white ceiling blankly. "One more meeting, Guster, you can do this," he muttered aloud. _One more horribly boring meeting where you can't think about anything but the trouble your best friend may have gotten into._

A frown creased Gus' forehead. He hadn't heard from Shawn all weekend, which actually sort of surprised him. True, he had threatened Shawn on pain of death to not interrupt any of his meeting this weekend by spinning tales of his grandmother falling down and breaking her back, or Mrs. Pickles having kittens. He never actually thought Shawn would keep his word, but seventy hours into this three-day nightmare had not brought one phone-call from his slightly crazy best friend.

Even so, it hadn't really bothered him until about half-way through this last meeting. He'd been calmly listening about the latest line of cough medicines when he'd suddenly gotten a strange feeling in his gut. That was his "Shawn's-Been-Acting-Like-A-Moron-And-Now-He's-In-Trouble" warning. He tried to shake it off, but it was quickly apparent that thoughts of medicine had been replaced by worries for his best friend. His head turned listlessly on his bed toward his cell phone as he debated for the tenth time on whether or not to call Shawn. If Shawn wasn't in any real trouble, Gus was sure his friend would immediately turn it around somehow on him. He had a knack for doing that kind of thing.

On the other hand, though… usually Gus' gut was never wrong. It was like the Super Smeller, which Shawn always laughed at - it was dead accurate. "I'll call him as soon as the last lecture is over. I mean, how much trouble could he have gotten into in three days?" Gus muttered, snatching the TV remote off the small end-table and flicking the TV on. _Although this is Shawn we're talking about,_ he added silently, flipping carelessly through channels. He settled on a local news channel, and closed his eyes.

"…latest reports indicate that O'Riley's older brother has taken a hostage right out of the SBPD parking lot," a brunette reporter was saying. Gus eyes popped wide open, and he shot up off his bed and crouched in front of the television. He could see the very familiar courthouse steps underneath the reporter's umbrella. When she moved the umbrella up higher, Gus could see the entire courthouse, and noticed several cop cars were parked out in front. "Police have not released any information on the name of the hostage as of yet. O'Riley has been charged with the brutal slaying…"

But Gus was no longer listening to the reporter. She hadn't said the name, but he knew who was missing. Behind the reporter, he saw Lassiter's car pull into the frame. His stomach leapt into his throat when he saw Henry Spencer step out of the car along with Lassiter and Vick. There was only one reason Henry would be there.

Shawn was in trouble. Again.

* * *

Henry and Lassiter both scowled when they saw the news van parked on the far side of the parking lot. A reporter was already standing in front of a camera talking. "They're vultures - the whole lot of 'em," Henry growled angrily. "Shawn's been missing for an hour, and they're already swarming around here." 

"We haven't released Spencer's name - they don't know who's missing yet," Lassiter told him. Seeing Henry's slightly surprised look, he added, "We were hoping that O'Riley would come straight here, and I thought that having millions of news reports swarming the courthouse might keep him away."

"That was real effective - way to bring him here," Henry muttered under his breath. Lassiter glared at him.

"Ignore them - we've got more pressing matters to deal with," Vick said sharply, jogging up the courthouse steps. Henry and Lassiter moved quickly to catch up with her.

As they entered the courthouse, Henry's cell phone rang out shrilly. The former officer hurriedly pulled it out and saw Gus' name flashing across the screen. His eyes widened - he had completely forgotten about his son's best friend. "Yeah?" he barked into the phone.

"I just saw the news - Shawn's missing, right?" Gus demanded immediately.

"Yeah. How'd you know? Carlton said they hadn't released Shawn's name yet," Henry said with a frown. Up ahead, Lassiter paused mid-stride to look at him over his shoulder. Henry waved for him to keep going.

"They haven't, but I was watching the news, and I saw you climb out of Lassiter's car in the background. There's only one reason why you'd be riding with the Chief and the Head Detective," Gus replied with a hint of smugness.

Henry chuckled. "Looks like Shawn's been wearing off on you."

"I've been hanging out with him long enough - it was bound to," Gus agreed. His tone was much more serious when he said, "What's going on, exactly?"

Henry outlined the situation to him briefly. "And now we're at the station to question Lance O'Riley, see if he has any idea where his brother might've taken Shawn," he finished.

"Wait, I thought O'Riley was going to exchange Shawn for his brother," Gus cut in, sounding confused.

"O'Riley's car hasn't made an appearance yet. My guess is that he's hiding Shawn somewhere and then is going to tell us where Shawn is in exchange for his brother," Henry replied grimly.

"Okay, I'm coming back," Gus told him.

"Gus, there's nothing you can-"

"I'll find something to do - he's my best friend. I can't just sit here and do nothing," Gus said sharply. "I'll be there in a while."

Henry sighed. "Okay. Just call when you get close, and I'll update you, okay?"

"Thanks, Mr. Spencer," Gus replied gratefully. "Bye."

"Bye." Henry snapped his phone shut and headed toward the stairs.

When he reached the bottom, he saw Karen standing outside the holding room, looking through the one way mirror they had installed recently. One glance at her face revealed that this hopeful lead was panning out into a dead end. Henry settled in beside her and watched as Lassiter and O'Hara interrogated O'Riley.

"Look, I already told you, I haven't talked to my brother in over two years. We never really had a close relationship," O'Riley was insisting. His green eyes flashed angrily as he ran a cuffed hand through his short dark hair. "I ain't got a clue where he took that guy!"

Both Henry and Lassiter scoffed. "Don't feed me that load of bull," Lassiter sneered, slapping both of his palms flat on the table and leaning in to face O'Riley. "You expect me to believe that? Your brother kidnapped a police consultant to get your sorry ass out of here! That sounds like some deep family loyalty to me."

"My client doesn't have to take this from you people," O'Riley's attorney cut in harshly. "I think you got all you're going to get from him - I suggest you leave before I file a complaint."

O'Hara's eyes narrowed, even as she said sweetly, "Let's go, Carlton."

Lassiter's gaze shot to her, but he silently followed the blonde out, glaring at O'Riley over his shoulder. O'Riley smirked and shot him the bird. Lassiter's jaw clenched, and he slammed the door shut.

Vick and Henry swarmed in around the pair immediately. "If you give me five minutes with him-"

Three resounding "no's" effectively cut Henry off. "He's lying through his teeth," O'Hara added.

"Yeah, but how do we call him on it?" Vick wondered. Any replies were cut off as the Chief's phone rang. "Vick." They all watched as Karen's face went oddly blank. "What? When?" A long pause. "You're sure? A hundred percent positive?" She sighed heavily, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose. "Okay. Tell them I needed the forensics report and the accomplice lists yesterday. Got it? Thanks. Bye." She flipped her phone shut, but kept her eyes closed.

"Karen? What is it?" Henry demanded.

There was a long pause. Finally, Vick let out a long breath and opened her eyes. "That was McNabb. They found Vince O'Riley's car," she said softly.

"And?" Juliet urged, sensing that something was terribly wrong.

"Apparently O'Riley lost control out on the interstate on the wet roads and crashed into the median," Vick continued grimly. Her eyes locked with Henry's. The elder Spencer felt a wave of dread wash over him. "It exploded. No survivors."

_A/N: Did I forget to mention that I didn't resolve that cliffie in here? No? Must've slipped my mind... muahaha! See you all later! Thanks for reading!_

_moogsthewriter_


	6. That Which Doesn't Kill You Makes You Hu

_Well, technically, this is my second post in one day, since I haven't gone to bed yet. But also technically, it's past midnight, so it's a different day! Heh. So I'm just going to post the next part now, because I don't know if I'll have time later today! So... review replies..._

_**Englandlover3** - Heehee... does this answer your question! Hope this helps you make it through the day!_

_**FanFicFreak-33** - Thanks so much! Yeah, it's not as bad of a cliffie since you know that Shawn wasn't in the trunk of the car... but I never said he wasn't dead. (Just kidding... for now...) And, yes, the attache use was intentional... that still makes me laugh, too! _

_**Saucy-Duck** - Thank you very much! I'm glad you enjoy this. It's always encouraging to hear people like my writing style!_

_**hollowgirl22 **- Glad you like it! And yes, there will be Shules... some in this chapter a little, but more later!_

_**andi** - (grins) Yes... I love being evil... at least, in fanfiction! Heehee!_

_**mav32** - Yeah, don't worry - this scene will have your great love in it! And we are so twins cuz I love those Henry-cares-for-Shawn moments, too! Lol!_

_**PsychFan81692** - Heehee, glad you like it! And guess what... it's tomorrow again!!_

_**Streak13** - _XDDDDD _CAA - that's a new one. You really got me laughing with that. I would so qualify for that! Hope this is soon enough for you! (But... just to warn you, this story is pretty much made of cliffies... what can I say? They're deliciously fun to write!)_

_Thanks to all of you who read as well! This chapter has a slightly different aspect of Shules in it, BTW. Hopefully y'all catch what I'm talking about. Enjoy!_

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**That Which Doesn't Kill You Makes You Hurt... Really Bad**

Silence fell over the group for a long moment. Finally Lassiter weakly said, "And Spencer? Was he - in -?"

Vick smiled faintly. "There were no remains found in the trunk - that was the first place the officers looked." The hard look on Lassiter's face softened slightly, and Juliet's shoulders slumped in relief. "But there were two people riding up front. Their bodies were burned beyond recognition, so ID won't be confirmed until the DNA results are in," Vick added, her tone grim.

"Shawn wasn't with them," Henry said quietly but confidently. He stared at each of them fiercely. "They were gone long enough to make me think they dropped him off somewhere. Besides, any self-respecting kidnapper would realize in thirty seconds that Shawn is much easier to deal with if he's out of sight rather than in the seat next to them," he added with a slight smirk.

Lassiter chuckled wryly. "That's the truth," he muttered.

"But that means we have a new problem," O'Hara broke in.

The others nodded. "We have no idea where they could've hidden Shawn," Vick finished.

Henry cast a dark glance at O'Riley through the one-way mirror. He watched as the man quietly talked with his lawyer. "He probably does," he growled fiercely.

O'Hara's shoulders suddenly stiffened, and she strode forward, yanked the door open, then walked in and slammed it shut behind her. The leftover trio stared at each other in shock for a beat, then hastened to the mirror. They watched in silent astonishment as Juliet leaned on the table, much like Lassiter had earlier. The room was silent for a moment. "I thought we were done with this ridiculous questioning," O'Riley's lawyer finally said coolly.

Juliet shot him an icy glare. "Your brother's dead," she declared calmly, looking back at O'Riley.

Lance O'Riley's face paled visibly. "Wh-what?" he stammered weakly.

"This is beyond low, detective," the lawyer cut in harshly.

"Do you think I would lie about something like this?" O'Hara shot back. Both men looked visibly surprised at her brusqueness.

"I don't think I've ever seen her like this!" Vick whispered softly in shock, staring at the normally-sweet woman on the other side of the glass.

"I didn't think she had it in her," Lassiter agreed, looking just as shocked at his partner's tone.

"Normally I would say I'm sorry for your loss," O'Hara continued tensely. "But these aren't normal circumstances. Your brother kidnapped a good friend of mine, O'Riley, and I think you know where he could be."

"I thought you said he was with my brother," O'Riley replied, blinking fiercely.

"He was - we think your brother hid him somewhere around the area," Juliet told him. "So I need you to tell me any acquaintances your brother had around the area."

"My client already told you-"

"If you tell me what I want to know, I promise you'll be able to go to your brother's funeral," Juliet continued in a softer tone, keeping eye contact with O'Riley and ignoring his lawyer. Her face softened into an almost pitiful look as she locked eyes with the teary-eyed man. "You have my word."

"Can she do that?" Henry and Lassiter whispered together, glancing at Vick.

Karen smiled faintly. "If this works, I will definitely allow it," she murmured back.

O'Riley took a deep, shuddering breath. "I wasn't completely lying," he finally choked out. "My brother and I haven't been all that close lately."

"Lance, I wouldn't-"

"Shut up!" Lance snapped at his lawyer. "It's not like I'm confessing to a murder or something! He was my big brother! He was all the family I had left!" he finished in a croak, tears beginning to flow freely down his face.

O'Hara tentatively reached out a hand and placed it on O'Riley's arm. Her voice barely came out above a whisper when she said, "Now I really am sorry for your loss."

O'Riley's eyes searched her face; then he sighed. "I was telling the truth when I said Vince and I hadn't talked in two years. We kinda lost touch when we were both in prison. But when we were younger, we were pretty close. We grew up not too far from here, actually. Our parents died when I was ten. Vince was fifteen. We hopped around for a little while, but Vince got into some trouble one night, and he was charged with murder. We always kinda both had tempers." He snorted humorlessly. "I guess you probably knew that from our rap sheets, huh?"

Juliet nodded once. "Do you have any idea where Vince could've taken Sh - the hostage, I mean? Any family friends in the area, or old haunts?" she asked.

O'Riley's wiped his face with his cuffed hands. "Well, there was this guy he used to hang out with when we were kids. His name was Buck somethin' or other. I don't really remember. But I remember Vin used to talk about heading up to Buck's farm to hang out - he never let me come. Told me it was too dangerous. So I don't know where it is," he said, a hint of regret in his tone. "And that's the honest truth. I don't even know if Buck lives around here anymore."

"I believe you," Juliet told him. "Anyone else?"

O'Riley thought for a moment. "I don't think so - most of the guys we hung out with when we were younger are dead or in the pen," he said finally, shrugging.

"Okay, thanks. If you think of any else, make sure you let us know, okay? I think you'll probably be transferred back to the prison for the rest of the day," Juliet told him, straightening. She smiled faintly, then turned and headed out of the door.

The others stared at her. She looked at them apprehensively. "Did I do alright?" she squeaked out.

"You did great, O'Hara," Vick reassured her. "It's your info - you wanna run with it?"

"I'll get right on it, Chief," Juliet affirmed, grinning and rushing down the hall.

Vick glanced over his shoulder as Lassiter sighed. "It's not much to run with," he told her when she raised an eyebrow.

Vick smiled. "I thought you knew your partner better than that, Carlton."

Henry smirked in agreement. "She'll track down this Buck guy with all she's got," he declared, folding his arms.

"What makes you say that?" Lassiter wondered.

"Just because, Carlton," Vick said knowingly, heading for the stairs.

* * *

The first thing Shawn Spencer was aware of was the faint smell of ammonia, coppery rain, and something else his foggy mind couldn't quite place. He could also feel something wet on his legs. _Great. Mom's gonna have to wash my sheets,_ he thought sluggishly. _That hasn't happened since I was three._

Then nearly twenty year's worth of memories came back to him, and his eyes popped open as he thought, _Wait a sec, that's not right!_

His gaze flicked upward. High above him, he could see little slivers of gray light filtering in through gaps in the wooden cover. He blinked as a drop of water splashed onto his face. He stayed in that position for several minutes, struggling to get his bearings.

Eventually he became aware of different points of throbbing pain. A headache beat a steady rhythm against the back of his eyeballs, and needles of pain radiated up from his right leg and his right shoulder. His arms were still securely fastened behind his back, and the tape was still over his mouth, severely limiting his breathing. _Up and at 'em,_ he thought grimly, tensing his waist to shove himself up.

Beads of sweat popped out on his forehead as the slight twisting movement caused the needles in his leg to become white-hot knives. He relaxed his body again, his vision nearly going white because of the pain. Another two drops of water splashed on his cheek. After a few long moments, he craned his head down to look at what was wrong.

_Crap, I think I'm gonna puke. _

For a long moment, Shawn just stared in horror at his leg. In the dim light from above, he could make out his blood soaked leg. Somehow a foot long piece of scrap metal three inches wide had pierced through the outer edge of his thigh. Miraculously, it seemed to have missed any major arteries, but the blood-soaked jeans and the reddish-colored dirt underneath him were not good signs. Shawn took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself. _Alright, Spencer, think,_ he told himself, jerking his head slightly in annoyance as another drop of water collided with his face.

He couldn't take the metal out for two reasons. One, that was just a plain bad idea - he could do a lot more damage to his leg. Two, there was the problem of his hands being bound behind him. He could barely wiggle his fingers because his hands were so numb, and he was fairly certain his right shoulder was dislocated in the very least, judging by the sharp pains coming from it.

Shawn squeezed his eyes shut and tried to take a few deep breaths. _This gag has got to come off,_ he thought vaguely. Another drop of water came down, continuously adding to his irritation. He could barely breathe through his nose, especially since his face was half-squashed in some foul-smelling mud. Plus, he was working extremely hard not to throw up. If he puked, he'd probably choke to death on his own vomit. _And that is **such **a pleasant thought… _

He forced his eyes open again. This time his eyes adjusted much quicker, and for the first time he was able to make out some of the junk that was scattered on the bottom of the cistern. Six inches in front of his face was an old plank of wood with a few rusted, bent nails sticking out of it. The shattered remains of a cinder block were nearby, and there was a three-foot-long piece of pipe that had been corroded away at one end._ Yeesh, this place is a junk hole. Just great,_ Shawn thought with annoyance. Another drip, this time on his nose. Shawn rolled his eyes and braced himself for pain.

He slowly stretched his arms out behind him, sucking in a few breaths through his nose as pain shot up from his arm. _Please, please, let there just be something,_ he silently pleaded. _This day has already been bad enough. _

He gradually became aware of something poking his hand. His clumsy fingers poked and prodded at something sharp embedded in the dirt._ That's probably going to hurt a lot later,_ Shawn thought as dull twinges of pain began registering in his mind, heedless of yet another drip of water.

Grunting softly, he moved slightly so he could get better access at the sharp object. His eyes stung with tears and he had to fight back pain-induced waves of nausea as his right leg was bumped. Shawn clumsily moved his arms, trying to get the tape to rub against the object. He winced as he felt it dig into his forearm. _That wasn't right,_ he thought, doing some more adjusting.

After a moment, he was greeted with the soft sound of the tape being torn slightly. He slowly pushed his body up, using his hips and his good leg to get his upper torso to move straight. After a few agonizing moments, he felt the unmistakable tingle of blood rushing back into his hands. With one slight jerk, his hands parted. Shawn closed his eyes in relief, slowly clenching and unclenching his fingers, trying to get them to work properly again.

Finally he slowly brought his left arm over his body and in front of him. He winced when he saw the deep cuts on his fingers and the slash across the back of his hand. Pieces of tape were still wrapped around his wrist, and he had blood trickling down the inside of it. A water drop splashed down on the back of his hand, trickling into the cut. Bracing himself, he reached up and yanked the duct tape off his face. He crumpled up the tape into a sticky ball as he flexed his jaw, his face stinging. "I don't think I'll need to shave for like a year now," he murmured croakily, his throat dry.

After several long minutes. Shawn placed his left palm flat on the ground. "One… two… three!" he groaned, pushing himself up. He bit back a scream of pain as his leg felt like it practically exploded, instead forcing himself to sit relatively upright. His vision started swimming again, and bile began to rise in the back of this throat. Shawn gritted his teeth, breathing deeply, struggling to stay conscious.

Eventually, the pain subsided enough to the point that he could open his eyes again. He brought his hands forward so he could look more closely at his arms, ignoring the pain that spiked through his right shoulder. Underneath all of the mud, he could see blood flowing from a long gash on his right forearm. "That's just perfect," Shawn hissed, gently wiping away the mud to get a better look at the wound.

It was around four inches long, running from just above his wrist up until about his elbow. Looking around, Shawn picked up a loose piece of metal, then pulled up the T-shirt he was wearing so that he could get at a slightly cleaner piece of his undershirt. "That'll have to do for now," he muttered, using the dirty fabric to wrap up his arm as best as he could.

He shot a disgusted look down at his limp, useless leg before looking up at the sides of the cistern. It appeared that, at one time, the sides of the pit had been well packed. Now pieces of it had crumbled away, making the wall look pock-marked in the dim light. Water trickled in a steady stream down one side of the well, and drips of water slipped in through the cracks of the wooden cover. Now that he was more alert, Shawn could hear the steady rhythm of the rain falling against the cover. "Time to get out," he muttered to himself, trying not to stare up at the nearly impossible-to-overcome height.

Steeling himself, he used the left side of his body to drag himself over to the nearest side of the cistern, raising his right leg up slightly so that the metal wouldn't drag along the ground. Shawn peered up at a nearby handhold. He took a deep breath, released it slowly, then tucked his left leg in and reached up with his left hand to try to pull himself up with the handhold.

He got about halfway up when the dirt beneath his fingers crumbled.

Shawn landed back on the ground harshly. The metal in his leg was jostled enough so that it slid back into his leg half an inch. Shawn couldn't hold it in anymore.

Up on top of the dilapidated barn, a sparrow was startled out of its peaceful reverie when an ear-shattering scream split the silence.

Shawn rested his head back against the muddy wall, gulping down air, working his hardest not to throw up. He held back a sob, trying not to let despair overwhelm him. There was no way he could stand up straight, let alone climb up a vertical wall for twenty feet.

He was trapped.

_A/N: Thanks for reading! See you later! I heart reviews! (flees quickly)_

_moogsthewriter_


	7. Chasing a Whole Lotta Nothing?

_Alright, so I've got a moment here to update! Now for some review replies..._

_**avidreader** - Your wish is my command! lol_

_**FanFicFreak-33** - Thanks so much! I know I would totally watch an episode with Shawn whumpage in it. (Spellingg Bee? Yeah, one of my favorites, mainly cuz Shawn gets whumped on a little!)_

_**Englandlover3** - Lol, I agree, Lassie is kinda clueless, isn't he? But, yeah, I still love him, too. As for Shawn being alive... muahahaha... guess you'll find out!_

_**PsychFan81692** - Trust me, there's a few more cliffies to come... I'm evil, I know._

_**mav32** - Yes, Jules does love him, even if she doesn't realize it yet, lol. Here's some more Shawn... soon... _

_**Saucy-Duck** - Thanks! Glad you liked it!_

_**Exploded Pen** - Yes. Yes I am. And I'm glad you don't object! Heehee!_

_**hollowgirl22** - Eep! Here! Here's an update! I can't go killing off my fans, now, can I?_

_**Streak13** - Thanks! Yeah, that is Shawn's luck. And I know what you mean - I've never personally had a rod through my leg, but I can bet it hurts a lot!_

_**Niente Zero** - Thanks very much! I like to think of it as a slightly different take on Shules that really would happen (maybe should happen, lol). Glad you liked it!_

_Thanks once again to all my readers as well. This chapter jumps around a little bit, but hopefully I've made it clear enough so that you can follow. If you have any questions, though, don't be afraid to ask! Standard disclaimer, blah, blah, blah - enjoy!_

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**Chasing a Whole Lotta Nothing?**

"This is hopeless - I can't find anything!" Juliet moaned, pushing her chair away from the computer. Her watery eyes looked up at the figures in front of her.

Henry and Gus were pacing back and forth in front of her desk. They paced in opposite directions, but they turned around at exactly the same time. If the situation weren't so serious, the entire scene would've been hilarious. But laughing was the last thing that Juliet felt like doing at the moment.

Any hope at finding "Buck" had died about two hours after her conversation with Lance O'Riley, but she had still kept at it for another three. There had been no other choice - the results for the remains in the crash hadn't come back yet, and they had absolutely no other leads.

Juliet glanced up at the clock for the hundredth time that night. Six hours. More than six hours ago, Shawn had been taken from the police parking lot (a fact that the media had jumped on). That meant that he had been trapped who-knew-where for at least five. Tips had been called in left and right for the first few hours, but none of them panned out - mainly because people kept calling in reports on seeing O'Riley's car… which they already had in the impound.

She jumped slightly as Henry suddenly growled, halting his pacing to rub his face. "This is driving me insane! Isn't there anything we can do?" he growled, turning to face O'Hara. "My kid's out there somewhere! I gotta do something!"

"Knowing Shawn, he'll waltz in here in the next ten minutes, wondering why we're all so freaked out," Gus muttered, massaging the back of his neck. Juliet couldn't hold back a snicker.

"That would be like him, wouldn't it?" she muttered, shaking her head ruefully.

Henry suddenly advanced on her. "Did anyone try tracking his cell phone?" he demanded. His eyes narrowed to a sharp glare as hers widened. "You didn't try his damn phone?" he asked in a growl.

"You mean this phone?" Lassiter suddenly called as he strode into the station. They whirled and saw him holding up an evidence bag. Inside were the charred and blackened remains of what was once clearly a cell phone. Juliet's hand shot to her mouth, Gus's eyes looked like they were about ready to pop out of his head, and Henry appeared to be on the verge of cracking a few teeth because his jaw was clenched so tightly.

Lassiter's expression was unreadable as he held up another evidence bag. This one contained the twisted remains of a key ring with three different keys and a pineapple-shaped key-chain. "We found them in the trunk of the car," Lassiter muttered, setting them almost reverently on Juliet's desk. "They must've fallen out of his pocket."

"Or he was trying to call us, but couldn't get through," Henry said grimly, picking up the bag with the charred phone. Juliet's eyes narrowed slightly when she saw the subtlest of tremors in his hand.

Lassiter looked at his partner. "Any luck?"

Juliet's eyes moved to lock with his. "No," she said softly. "I tried every cross-reference I could think of. No Buck was ever associated with O'Riley - at least, not on the record."

Lassiter sighed, rubbing his jaw. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but we could almost use Spencer's help," he muttered.

"He'd be able to find something," Gus agreed.

"Not if there's nothing to find," Henry murmured, resuming his pacing. The other three shot him peculiar glances.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Juliet demanded.

"I'm just saying, I think even Shawn would have a hard time figuring this out now," Henry replied shortly.

"With any luck, we'll get an ID on the second guy in that truck soon," Vick called from the doorway to her office. They turned to see her smiling faintly. "That should get the ball rolling again," she added softly.

Gus sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Too bad it's not like those _CSI _shows where they get the evidence in like twenty minutes," he muttered.

"Trust me, Mr. Guster, they're working on it as fast as they can," Vick reassured the younger man, coming out to lean on O'Hara's desk.

They all started as a phone rang shrilly. Lassiter immediately pulled his phone out of his pocket. "Lassiter." There was silence for a moment. Suddenly he frantically tapped on Juliet's desk twice, then pointed at her computer. O'Hara nodded, sliding back in front of her computer, hands poised to type in an entry.

"Richard Erickson? You're sure?" Lassiter said finally, looking pointedly at his partner. Juliet immediately put the name into the system, a grin blossoming across her tired face. "Okay. Thanks," Lassiter finished, snapping his phone shut. Gus and Henry eagerly crowded around Juliet's desk.

"Erickson was arrested with O'Riley when he was sixteen!" the young detective practically squealed. "He's only had a few speeding tickets since - that's why he was off the loop. Here's his last known address," she added, looking up at Lassiter as she pointed at the screen.

Lassiter peered at it. "That's in the general direction that O'Riley's car was traveling from when it crashed," he confirmed, a faint hint of smile pulling at his lips.

"Let's go, people. We got a consultant to rescue," Vick said as Henry sighed in relief and Gus whooped, giving Juliet a high-five.

* * *

"Raindrops keep fallin' on my head," Shawn sang softly, glancing up as yet another drop of water splashed down. He sighed again, shifting slightly, wincing as pain raced up his leg. He glanced down at his legs, eyeing the muddy, bloodstained fabric. "At least I wasn't wearing my favorite jeans anymore," he remarked wryly.

The only answer was another drop of water landing in his hair.

Shawn rolled his eyes, raising a hand to wipe his muddy, wet hair - then froze. His hand was trembling violently, and the skin beneath the mud was pale. For the first time, Shawn noticed he was freezing cold. He let his hand fall back to his lap, faintly wondering why he was raising it up in the first place. His eyes slid shut, and he let his mind start to wander freely. His last thought before consciousness faded was, _Someone come find me, please.

* * *

_

Henry looked tensely out of the window from his spot in the passenger seat of Gus' car. Up ahead, Lassiter was speeding through the streets, his siren flashing. Gus wordlessly kept up with him, knowing that he wasn't going to get pulled over for speeding at the moment. Lassiter had radioed all police cars to let him through if they saw him.

The elder Spencer glanced down at the tightly clenched fist resting in his lap. He felt a faint burning in his stomach, and he worked hard to swallow past the lump in his throat as he returned his gaze to the window. He was worried that something horrible had happened to Shawn - a fear that he chalked up to parental overbearance. _He's probably just tied up on a comfy couch,_ he tried to tell himself silently. Yet he couldn't suppress the feeling that something was wrong with his son.

_The sooner we find Shawn, the better.

* * *

_

Shawn was jerked awake sometime later. He blinked a few times, glancing up. The dim light that had been entering from around the cracks was even dimmer than before._ How long have I been out?_ he wondered with a start, straightening up.

His muscles protested the tiny movement fiercely, and he relaxed again. "Apparently a long time," he muttered out loud in response to his own question. He turned his head, then moaned and closed his eyes as the world tilted violently. _Wow, I do _not_ feel so good,_ he thought blearily.

He suddenly froze as the faintest of rumbles echoed down the cistern. He slowly tilted his head up, straining to hear any other sound over the dull roar in his ears. His eyes widened in shock.

* * *

Henry immediately slid out of the car as soon as Gus brought it to a halt. "Shawn! Shawn!" he called, looking up into a grimy window of a beat-up house. 

His glance shot back down when he heard a violent banging. Lassiter had approached the door, gun drawn, and was knocking loudly. "SBPD!" he shouted as the others gathered around behind him. "Open up!"

They all tensed as a soft pair of footsteps approached the door. Someone fumbled clumsily with the lock on the other side.

* * *

A third of the way down the wall of the cistern, a bulge had appeared - one that had _not_ been there before. "Well, that can't be good," Shawn muttered.

* * *

The door slowly opened, and a young man with spiky brown hair stuck his head out, green eyes wide. "Are you guys seriously cops?" he asked in awe, shuffling backwards on his crutches to open the door wide. A harried-looking woman appeared, her hands clenched around a towel. 

Lassiter lowered his gun and stepped forward. "Does Richard Erickson live here?" he demanded.

"What do you guys want with Uncle Buck?" the boy asked immediately, suspicious.

"Hush, Rick," the boy's mother chided, her face still full of shock. She stepped forward. "Yes, he does - he's my brother. Has he gotten into trouble?" she asked, her tone full of worry. "I told him he shouldn't've tried to help Vin!"

Juliet stepped forward. "May we come in? I'm afraid we've got some bad news."

* * *

Shawn stared at the bulge in a sort of morbid fascination. It had grown slightly over the last few minutes - definitely not a good sign. He tilted his head, his fuzzy mind trying to figure out what exactly was happening. 

His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open a little bit when a vague memory crossed his consciousness. _"These old dirt walls are starting to give, though - wouldn't surprise me if this rain caused 'em to crumble completely. You still wanna put him in there? It might flood." _

"Oh crap," he muttered as the bulge suddenly gave slightly. A horrid smelling muck that barely classified as water began streaming out, washing out more of the mud in the wall until it was gushing out in a mini-waterfall toward the ground. Shawn gasped as the muck struck his body, making the wound in his leg sting violently. The level was rising rather rapidly, soaking him completely through again.

Shawn tried to get to his feet, but fell back down with a splash as his right leg gave out. He choked out a scream as the muck crept over the top of his legs. He sucked in a few deep breaths, trying not to gag on the horrible stench. As the water slowly rose to the level of his waist, he threw his head back to stare up at the blocked entrance to the cistern. Hot tears pricked at his eyes and a sob struggled to break loose from his throat, but he held it in. The day could _not_ get any worse. _Why me? _

_A/N: Muahahaha! I'm evil, I know! Thanks for reading! See you tomorrow!_

_moogsthewriter_


	8. Follow the Badly Paved Road

_Hey, all! Sorry I missed yesterday's update - life got in the way. But here I am with a new chapter and some review replies!_

_**hollowgirl22** - Heehee! Hey, what can I say - I am evil, after all!_

_**FanFicFreak-33** - Hahaha! You're proud of me? That really made me laugh. Glad you liked it, though! And don't worry - I won't let you down!_

_**Englandlover3** - Heheh... you'll just have to wait and see, I suppose!_

_**PsychFan81692** - Hey, that may be true, but you know, it gets the point across, right? Sorry I didn't listen yesterday - enjoy this chapter now!_

_**Streak13** - Mmm! Pineapple! Sorry I'm late! Enjoy!_

_**mav32** - Yes, I suppose I should be nicer to my twin. But I just can't help it - cliffies are just so much fun! And that whole "Spellingg Bee" thing just goes to show we really ARE long lost twins!!_

_Thanks once again to all my other readers as well! You guys rock! Umm... I don't think I have anything else, other than that standard disclaimer. Yeah, Psych isn't mine, unfortunately. But the story is... you guys all know the drill. Enjoy!_

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**Follow the Badly Paved Road**

"I just can't believe that Buck would've done something like that!" Lauretta Erickson said through her sobs when Lassiter was done informing her of the basics of what had happened. Juliet put a comforting arm around the woman's thin shoulders as Lauretta blew her nose into a Kleenex. Rick stared ahead in silent shock, his eyes swimming with unshed tears. "Ever since he got arrested for Mary Anne's death, he's worked so hard at keeping his temper down!"

"What exactly happened when he was sixteen?" Gus asked kindly, offering her another Kleenex. "If you don't mind my asking," he added hastily when Juliet shot him a look that practically screamed, _How could you be so insensitive?_

"No, no, it's alright," Lauretta reassured him in a trembling voice. She took a few deep breaths before continuing, "He and Vince were at a party. Mary Anne was Buck's girlfriend, but Vince caught her with some other guy and attacked her. Buck didn't really even know what was going on until he found Vin covered in her blood. He was so traumatized from that experience," she finished in a murmur. She locked her watery brown eyes with Lassiter's cold blue ones. "He's really not a bad man, Detective. I don't know why he would've done something like this!"

Lassiter kept his expression carefully neutral as he jotted down a few notes. "Can you tell me when O'Riley called your brother?" he asked.

"It was around seven or so this morning," Lauretta told him, her voice sounding a little stronger. "I told him he shouldn't go - he didn't even know what Vin really needed him for - but Buck said it had something to do with Lance, Vin's little brother, so he had to help."

"Ma'am, were you and your brother aware that Lance was on trial?" Vick asked, her tone a little softer than normal.

Lauretta's grew wide. "No, I wasn't. I haven't been getting the paper lately, and the TV's broken," she explained breathlessly. "Lance was on trial?"

"For a triple murder," Lassiter confirmed. He ignored O'Hara's scandalized look.

"I had no idea - neither did Buck, I'm sure of it," the distraught woman said, her eyes welling again.

"Ma'am, we need you to help us. O'Riley kidnapped my son as a hostage to exchange for his brother. We think since Buck was driving, he took him somewhere he knew. Do you have any idea where they might've gone?" Henry asked, his voice tight.

Rick's head suddenly jerked to attention. "I might. Hold on, I need to grab something," he declared, grabbing his crutches and quickly hobbling down the hall. They all stared in surprise.

Lauretta sniffed. "This is going to be hard for him. Buck was like a father to him," she murmured. Her eyes shot to a picture on the mantel. Their eyes all followed to a snapshot of a young man in a Marine uniform. "My husband died shortly after Rick turned five. Buck practically raised him. If it hadn't been for him, I don't know-" She shakily grabbed another Kleenex from the box as her voice choked up. Juliet stared at her with sad eyes, and even Lassiter looked rather uncomfortable with the situation.

They looked up as Rick limped back into the room, a piece of paper clutched in his hand. He thrust it out towards Lassiter. "Uncle Buck gave me that right before he left. He told me if something went wrong to look there. I didn't really know what he meant," he explained thickly as Lassiter took the picture. The others moved so they could look over the detective's shoulder.

It was a photo of a younger O'Riley and another teen who was presumably Buck as a young man. They had their arms thrown around each other, grinning widely, gripping what looked like cans of beer in their free hands. They were standing in front of an old barn, looking as if they hadn't had a care in the world. "Do you know where this is?" Lassiter queried, handing the photo to Lauretta.

The picture shook in her quivering hand. "That's Uncle Roger's old farm," she said quietly, handing the picture back. "We practically lived there as kids. Technically, it belongs to James, our cousin, but he lives in Indiana now. It wouldn't surprise me if Buck said they should go up there."

"How do you get up there?" Henry asked eagerly, leaning forward. As Lauretta began describing the route, he thought, _Just hang on, son. We're coming soon.

* * *

_

Shawn jerked awake with a start. _When did I fall asleep?_ he wondered vaguely, blinking and looking around. The light had pretty much faded, and it was hard to see anything. Thankfully the water level in the other cistern had fallen below the level of the hole. It had stopped rising shortly after reaching his navel. That didn't make it any less smelly or miserable, but at least it wasn't going to go over his head… yet. 

Shawn swallowed thickly, grimacing at the taste in his mouth. He turned his head slightly to spit… and nearly fell face-first into the water. "Whoa, tha's no' righ' ," he slurred out as a wave of dizziness washed over him. He managed to sit up straight and rested his head back against the muddy wall. His mouth curved slightly when he thought about how bad he must look at the moment.

Gradually he became aware of the soft sound of the muck splashing slightly around him. He tipped his head down slightly, staring through the darkness at the water in confusion. He couldn't see anything anymore, but he could still hear the splashes around him. They seemed to be getting louder… or was that his ears just playing tricks on him? And why was his shoulder starting to throb so much?

Finally a thought made its way through his foggy mind. His arms were trembling so violently that they were making the water splash. He weakly grabbed at his right arm with his left hand to try and stop the trembling. Shawn growled faintly in annoyance when he felt tremors running throughout his body. "Well, this really sucks," he croaked, letting his mind drift off into blackness again.

* * *

"Good grief," Gus grunted as the small car bucked over the rough road. "I think I'm gonna get a concussion from driving over this road."

Henry braced on hand against the window frame. "No kidding," he muttered with a wince as they hit one particularly nasty bump. He frowned as a thought struck him. "It would not be fun to be stuck in a trunk going over this road," he added finally. Gus shot him a look out of the corner of his eye, but didn't respond.

At long last, the two vehicles pulled up to a stop. Up ahead of Gus and Henry, Lassiter's high beams cut through the drizzling rain to land on a decayed house. Gus' eyes grew wide as he stared out the windshield. "Where the hell could they have put Shawn in this dump?" he asked in amazement.

Henry's jaw was set in a firm line. "Come on," he growled, grabbing the flashlight he had brought off the dash and stepping out of the car.

"Shawn! Shawn!" he called loudly, striding forward. He listened for a moment, but no response came.

"Okay, let's split up," Lassiter declared, stepping out of his car and looking around. "We'll find Spencer faster that way. Judging by the condition of these buildings, he's probably been in the rain the entire time, so it's best to find him ASAP."

"Right," Vick agreed, flicking her own flashlight around. "O'Hara, you, Mr. Guster, and Henry comb the area around the barn. Detective Lassiter and I will handle the area around the house. And for cripes' sake, _don't_ go poking around the second floor if it's rotten through. The last thing we need is someone falling through the floor. Got it?" she added in her strictest voice. They all nodded, not missing the tightness of her face. She was clearly worried for the psychic.

"Yell if you find him," Henry finished, jogging ahead towards the barn and yelling Shawn's name. Gus and Juliet were right behind him, and Vick and Lassiter headed off for the house.

"Shawn! Shawn! Can you hear me?" Juliet called at the top of her lungs as Henry pushed the barn door open.

Gus, who was lingering behind the pair, wrinkled his nose. "Man, something sure stinks around here," he complained, waving a hand in front of his nose.

Henry ignored him, shining the flashlight down at the ground as he stepped inside the decayed old barn. Through the missing wall, he could see Karen and Lassiter disappearing inside the house. "Shawn! Shawn!" he shouted, shining the flashlight around.

Juliet gingerly stepped in behind him. She frowned, taking in the rotten chunks of floor that had fallen in from the loft, and what looked like a good chunk of shingles from the roof. "I don't think he's in here," she said softly, her heart falling. If this lead didn't pan out… they might never figure out where Shawn was. Not until it was too late.

She suddenly cringed as Gus bellowed behind her, "SHAWN! IF YOU CAN HEAR THIS, YOU'D BETTER ANSWER ME!"

"Yeesh, blow my eardrum out, why don't you?" Juliet muttered with a faint smirk, glancing over her shoulder at Gus. Gus rolled his eyes.

"Wait, hold up!" Henry suddenly hissed, holding up a hand to silence them. They froze, straining their ears to hear something over the gentle drizzle. They could hear Lassiter's indignant-yet-worried calls of "Spencer!" mixed with Vick's clearly worried calls of "Mr. Spencer! Shawn!" in the distance, but no other voices added to the mix.

Gus was the first to break the relative silence. "I don't-"

"SHAWN! YELL IF YOU CAN HEAR ME, SON!" Henry barked, making both Gus and Juliet wince. They didn't comment, though, instead choosing to hold their breaths in anticipation.

Gus' eyes widened when he heard a very weak, "Dad." Before he could even try to figure out where the call was coming from, Henry was running back out the way they had come.

"Carlton! Chief! Over here!" Juliet shouted as she and Gus headed after the older Spencer. They followed him around the corner of the barn and stopped in surprise.

There was nothing in sight. All they could see was four cisterns in a cluster. "Where is - oh, no," Gus' voice faded to a whisper, his eyes widening in horror as he looked at the foul-smelling cisterns.

"Shawn!" Henry practically screamed, rushing forward and falling to his knees in the mud next to one of the cisterns as Lassiter and Karen came up behind them, looking a lot dirtier than they had been before.

"No way," Lassiter said. "Spencer's in one of _those_?"

Henry had already pulled one cover off. He had to suppress the urge to vomit as the stench hit him. _What is in these things?_ he wondered, holding one arm up to his mouth and nose. "Shawn?" he called, pointing his flashlight downwards. It reflected off a pool of what looked like mud, water, and feces that filled close to two-thirds of the pit.

They all froze as the heard the faintest of groans coming from the pit next to the one Henry was currently peering in. The elder Spencer pivoted on one leg towards the sound. "Whoa!" he suddenly exclaimed as the ground beneath him gave way.

Gus suddenly shot forward, using a lightning speed no one knew he had. He grabbed one of Henry's flailing arms and yanked him forward onto solid ground, away from the cesspool.

Henry didn't miss a beat. He immediately moved forward, gripped the rotting wood with both hands, and flipped the lid up and back. Lassiter moved up and helped the older man get the lid away from the entrance. Henry aimed the flashlight into the hole. Even in the dim light of the others' flashlights, it was easy to see his face go completely white.

"Shawn!"

The others immediately gathered around the hole on solid ground and looked downward, all shining their flashlights. Gus and Juliet both recoiled slightly, Vick gasped, and Lassiter tensed.

Caught in the beams of the flashlights twenty feet below them was a trembling figure, caked in mud and filth and sitting in a rather deep puddle of sludge. The only sign that it was really Shawn was the small, semi-clean patch of hair that stuck up in its characteristic manner. "Spencer!" Lassiter barked. "Spencer, say something!"

They all waited for a moment, breathless, for any kind of movement. Finally Shawn seemed to stir, and with a groan he tipped his head back, looking up at them through hooded eyes. Henry's jaw dropped slightly. Half of Shawn's face was completely caked in mud, and the other half was a mixture of dark mud and patches of deathly-white skin. "Bou' time, Lassie," the psychic croaked. They cringed at the harshness of his voice.

"Can you stand, Mr. Spencer?" Karen called.

Shawn snorted faintly, his eyes drooping shut. They heard what sounded like, "Pole won' lemme," as his head slumped back down. Gus and Juliet looked at each other in confusion.

"Shawn!" Henry barked. Shawn reluctantly forced his head back up. "You gotta stay with us, okay, kiddo?"

"Don' wanna," Shawn whined weakly.

"Tough bounce, kid," Henry growled back. The others stared at the elder Spencer in surprise. "What am I always telling you?"

"Sell m' bike?" Shawn asked, working very hard at keeping his eyes open. Even at this distance, Gus could tell they were fever-glazed. He felt his heart speed up a little bit, the beginnings of panic beginning to overwhelm him.

"Nope, wrong answer - though you do need better transportation, sport. Try again," Henry called back almost lazily, a tense edge under his voice.

"We need to radio an ambulance," Vick muttered under her breath.

"I'll go do it - I think I got something in my car to help him out, too," Gus said quickly, scrambling away from the hole and heading back for his car before anyone could object. Their gazes shot back to the bottom of the cistern when Shawn groaned.

"I dunno, Dad," the pseudo-psychic said, his voice growing fainter with every word.

"Yes, you do, Shawn - I've only told you a million times," Henry shot back.

There was a stretch of silence for a moment as Shawn screwed his face into thoughtful look. "How many hats?" the younger Spencer finally asked hopefully. Lassiter's eyes narrowed. Shawn had shifted subtly, and he had winced faintly, weakly grabbing at his right leg with his left arm.

"I think he must've landed on his right side," the detective muttered to O'Hara and Vick.

"I saw that, too," Juliet whispered in reply.

"Closer, but nope," Henry was saying to Shawn. "Spencer men don't get sick."

"Hate to break it to ya, Dad," Shawn called wearily, "but you're no' always right."

They paused in conversation as Gus came running back. "There's a small dispatch station close by, so an ambulance should be here within twenty minutes," he told them breathlessly, dropping a duffel bag to the ground.

"On that road? It's gonna be more like half an hour," Henry groused. "Why do you have a climbing rope in your car?" he added as Gus pulled out some climbing gear.

"Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies," Gus replied. "But you could always ask Shawn - it's his fault," he added in a louder voice.

"Gus? Izzat you?" Shawn slurred.

"Yeah, Shawn, I'm here. Perhaps you'd care to explain to your father why we keep climbing gear in the trunk," Gus replied casually, uncoiling some of the rope.

The others glanced at each other as Shawn started laughing almost hysterically. "Wha' happens in Mex'co stays 'n Mex'co, y' know th' rules, Gus!" he called sluggishly. Juliet couldn't hold back a chuckle, and Vick almost smirked.

"I'm going down there," Henry said harshly, looking at Gus.

"I was going to!" Gus shot back.

"No, you two are both civilians. I've gotta do it," Lassiter interjected tersely, his eyes flashing.

"Now wait just a minute," Henry began.

"Guys!" Juliet suddenly called loudly. She ignored Shawn's puzzled, "Jules?" and said, "None of you are going to be able to maneuver down there - the shaft's wide, but not wide enough."

There was a pause as they looked back down. Shawn's head was dropping back down again. "Plus, we're gonna need all the manpower we can get to pull him out," Vick pointed out. The men looked at each other resignedly, then at Juliet as Vick added, " And since Mr. Spencer gets along so well with you, O'Hara, you're going down."

_A/N: Thanks for reading! Reviews are love! See you tomorrow!_

_moogsthewriter_


	9. Complications? On a Day Like This? You M

_Wow! I've broken fifty reviews already! You guys have no idea how happy that makes me! So here's the next chapter as your reward for being so great!_

_**Somebody'sBaby** - Welcome aboard! I'm glad you're enjoying it, and as strange as it may sound, I'm glad you were late for class... well, okay, not really, but it's good to know I can suck someone in like that! Thanks for the review!_

_**hollowgirl22 **- Your wish is my command! _

_**CopyNinAstral** - Thanks so much! Actually, I would like to go into screenwriting as my career... so you never know - maybe someday I will join them! Thanks so much for your kind review - I really appreciate it!_

_**avidreader** - As you wish! _

_**FanFicFreak-33** - Oh... she might! _;)_ Glad you liked the chapter!_

_**Englandlover3** - You're right about that - this will be rather fun!_

_**Niente Zero** - Thanks for the love! And thanks for being such a faithful reviewer - I really appreciate it!_

_**PsychFan81692** - I kinda agree with you about the show... but I don't want it to be too rushed, because then things usually start going downhill - at least, that's what happened in other shows I've watched. But I'm glad you're enjoying the story!_

_And a big thanks to all of my other readers out there - you guys are just fabulous! Love you all! This is personally one of my favorite chapters of this story. Enjoy!_

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**Complications? On a Day Like This? You Must Be Kidding.**

"Now when you get down to the bottom of the shaft, you'll probably have to untie yourself and hook the rope around Spencer," Lassiter told the Junior Detective as he and Gus secured the climbing rope around her waist. He looked at her seriously. "He's not going to be any help when we try to get him back up, that's for sure. So you'll be down there for a little while, okay?"

"I'll be fine, Carlton," Juliet said with a faint smile. "Let's just focus on getting Shawn out of there - he's been down there a lot longer than I will be."

"Just be careful, O'Hara," Vick cautioned as the younger woman approached the side of the hole.

"And be careful when you put your feet down on the bottom," Henry called as he wrapped the rope around his waist. He braced himself and continued, "Judging by the look of this place, it wouldn't surprise me if the ground is littered with crap. Got it?"

"Got it, sir," Juliet affirmed. She flashed a reassuring smile at Gus, who looked worried. Shawn had fallen silent again, and they hadn't been able to rouse him. "He's gonna be okay, Gus."

"Oh, he will. If he dies, I'll find some way to bring him back to life and kill him again," Gus replied, his voice gruff but quavering slightly. He settled in next to Henry, grabbing firmly onto the rope.

"You guys ready?" Juliet asked as Lassiter and Vick took positions on the rope. When all four of them nodded, she took a deep breath and eased herself over the side.

"Shawn? Shawn, I'm coming down," she called as she was slowly lowered. She worked at breathing through her mouth to suppress the gag reflex.

"Jules? Why now? This isn't the best time - I kinda need to take a shower," came a faint reply a moment later.

Juliet sighed in relief. Shawn was awake again - that was good. "Yeah, that's okay, I have a feeling I need one, too!" she called brightly, glancing into a hole in the side of the wall. The stench that came out of it was almost overpowering. She turned slightly to get away from the smell, aiming her flashlight downwards as she dropped another few feet..

"Owwoww, Jules," the psychic whined feebly as the light shone into his eyes, raising a feeble hand to attempt and block the light.

"Sorry," Juliet said apologetically, quickly jerking the beam to the side. "How're you feeling?"

"Sick," Shawn replied faintly, his head dropping back limply against the wall. "Maybe y' should come back 'nuther time."

"No, that's okay, I still wanna come see you. I wanna make you feel better," Juliet told him, worry edging into her voice.

"M'kay," came the slurred reply.

"How close are you, O'Hara?" Lassiter suddenly called loudly.

"Another six feet or so!" Juliet called back.

"Lassie? Wha's he doin' here?" Shawn asked, puzzled. Juliet saw his head move slightly from side-to-side, as if he were looking for the detective. "Where's 'e at?"

"He's up top, Shawn," Juliet said patiently.

"Up top? Whazzat mean?"

Juliet's eyes widened as she splashed down. She wrinkled her nose in disgust briefly at the feeling of the muck creeping up her pant legs. _And these were my best dress pants,_ she thought for a moment, wedging the flashlight into the wall so the beam fell on Shawn before moving to crouch next to him. "You fell down a hole, Shawn," she said, placing a hand against his forehead. She could feel the heat radiating from his body a few inches away. _This is not good_.

"Wha'? No, I didn' - someone pushed me," Shawn protested, his glazed hazel eyes flashing with frustration.

"You're right, Shawn. Do you remember who pushed you?" Juliet asked encouragingly, moving her hand to rub away some of the mud caked on his right cheek.

Shawn leaned into her touch. "Mmm. Feels good," he whispered faintly, his eyes sliding shut.

"Shawn? Shawn! Focus, okay?" Juliet urged, shaking his head slightly. Shawn forced his eyes open. "Do you remember who pushed you into this hole?"

Shawn's muddy forehead wrinkled as he concentrated for a moment. "O'Riley," he said finally.

"Good, good, you remember," Juliet sighed.

"How's it looking, Juliet?" Gus called.

"Gus!" Shawn exclaimed excitedly, looking up. "You're back!"

"Hey, Shawn," Gus replied, barely suppressing the concern in his voice. Juliet stood and looked up at Gus, Henry, Vick, and Lassiter, who had gathered around the hole again. All of their flashlights focused down on her and Shawn, and she had to raise a hand to block the light from her eyes.

"He's burning up with fever. He seems to be semi-aware of his surroundings," she told them. "He remembers O'Riley is the one who put him down here, anyway."

"Let's hurry up and get him out of there, then," Vick ordered. Juliet nodded and turned back to Shawn, who had closed his eyes again.

"Shawn? Shawn, wake up," the blonde urged, shaking his shoulder.

Shawn sat up with a yelp, his eyes wide with pain as he hurriedly brushed Juliet's hand away. "Stop, tha' hurts!" he complained.

"Sorry, sorry!" Juliet squeaked. She tentatively reached out with her hands again. Shawn shifted as if trying to get away, although he didn't get very far. "I just wanna see how bad it is, okay? I'll try not to hurt you," she coaxed.

Shawn glared at her for a moment longer before relaxing and letting her hands gently brush his shoulder. "If you were Lassie, I wouldn't've believed ya," he muttered with a faint smirk.

"I heard that, Spencer!" Lassiter called. Juliet noted that there was the slightest hint of amusement in the older man's tone - not that he'd ever admit it.

Her faint smile turned into a frown as she gently probed Shawn's shoulder. She could feel the swelling through his muddy polo, as well as the heat from his fever. Shawn hissed in pain, closing his eyes. "He messed up his shoulder pretty bad - maybe a dislocation, or possibly even broken," Juliet called to those at the top of the hole. "Shawn, where else does it hurt?" she added in a softer tone to the psychic, ignoring Henry's muttered exclamations.

"Leg," Shawn replied in whisper, letting his eyes slide open again.

"Did you break it?" Juliet asked, searching for his leg under the water.

Shawn grabbed her hand with his left hand. Juliet's eyes widened as he guided her hand down his right thigh. She could feel heat through the denim, and suddenly her fingers came into contact with rough metal. Her face blanched and her mouth dropped open as she plunged her other hand under the water to feel the object and the leg around it. "Oh my gosh - no wonder you said the pole wouldn't let you stand!" she breathed in horror, working hard to suppress the lunch that was threatening to reappear.

At the top of the cistern, they heard her faint exclamation and all looked at her worriedly. "Juliet? Juliet, what's wrong?" Henry called, his voice thick with worry.

Juliet was silent for a moment as she felt the underside of Shawn's thigh. The psychic let out a low moan of pain. "There's a piece of metal in his thigh. I think it went straight through," she finally replied in a choked voice.

Gus nearly fell forward as his arms started giving out. Vick gasped, her face looking horrified, as Lassiter and Henry both growled, "Damn it!"

"It's pretty bad, guys," Juliet continued. "I don't think it hit any major arteries, but it's pretty big. Shawn!" she added in a stern voice as the pseudo-psychic's head slumped forward.

"'M'wake!" Shawn mumbled in surprise, his eyes flying open as his head jerked up. He immediately winced, swaying slightly where he sat.

"Okay, Shawn, listen to me. I'm gonna take this rope and tie it around your waist, got it? We're gonna get you out of this miserable hole," Juliet told him briskly, moving to untie the rope around her waist.

"Y' don' have ta. 'S'not bad anymore," Shawn replied, his words slurred. He looked at her, his eyes glazed but serious. "You're here - can't be all bad, right?"

Juliet's hands froze for a brief moment. She flashed him a faint smile, the lump in her throat preventing her from being able to speak, and began working on the rope again. Even in this kind of situation, Shawn could still make her - _Damn it, O'Hara, get a grip - he's half-delusional! _she scolded herself, noticing her trembling hands.

"Whoa!" Lassiter suddenly exclaimed from up above. Both Juliet and Shawn looked up and saw Henry and Vick grabbing at some flailing arms.

"Is everything okay?" Juliet called, concerned.

"Some more of the ground gave way up here. The lid of the cistern next to this one fell in," Gus explained.

"Pick it up, O'Hara," Lassiter barked, his voice sounding slightly strained as his face reappeared. "The sooner we can get away from this hell hole, the better!"

"Yes, sir!" Juliet called back, finally getting the rope untied. She plunged her hands under the muck and began getting the rope wrapped around Shawn's waist.

"Jules?" Shawn whispered suddenly, his voice sounding panicked.

Juliet froze, looking up at his face. "What?" she murmured.

Shawn kept his gaze locked at a spot over her shoulder. "The wall's bulgin' again," he replied.

Juliet's eyebrows merged in confusion. "What?" she asked, twisting around and scanning the wall.

Her frantic gaze came to rest on a bulge that had formed around the flashlight - a bulge that seemed to be growing at an alarming rate. "What the-"

Suddenly, all hell seemed to break loose. Up at the top of the cistern, the others watched in horror as the lower half of the wall separating the two cisterns gave way. Filthy water rushed in, quickly engulfing both Juliet and Shawn. Juliet's frantic scream was cut off as the water went above their heads.

"Quick, pull!" Henry bellowed, tossing his flashlight to the ground and leaning back on the rope for all he was worth. The others quickly snapped out of their horrified daze and copied his movements. The rope was slack for a moment, then became tight.

Down below, Juliet had latched her arms around Shawn's chest. His left arm snaked around her back almost reflexively, although his right arm still hung uselessly at his side. As the water covered both of them completely, Juliet tried to kick off of the bottom, but the mud from the wall had mixed in with the sludge. Through the water, Juliet could hear it squelching as it pulled at her and Shawn, as if it were protesting the loss of potential victims.

Then something rubbed against her arm, and Juliet vaguely realized that the rope she had started tying around Shawn was being pulled tight. She felt the psychic tense noticeably in her arms as the rope jerked again. Her lungs were starting to ache, and she kept trying to force her way out of the mud.

Then, with one large _squelch_, they were jerked free. Juliet knew immediately, however, that something was terribly wrong with Shawn. He arched up against her, his entire body going rigid. He let out a scream that was earsplitting, even with the muck dampening the sound. There was another jerk on the rope, harder this time, as Shawn's body convulsed twice, then went limp. His arm slid from her back, and she had to tighten her grip to keep from getting separated from him.

Juliet felt her heart speed up with horror. The rope around Shawn's waist was coming undone - she could feel it slithering past her arm. The psychic had become dead weight in her arms, and she realized that he was drowning in the muck. Her hand shot out and latched around the rope automatically as she wrapped her legs around the limp man's waist, trying to keep a hold on him. There was another tug, and Juliet's head finally broke the surface.

The first gulp of air also had a good mouthful of muck with it, and she began choking and coughing. She became aware of a voice yelling at her. "O'Hara! Spencer! Shawn! Juliet! SOMEBODY SAY SOMETHING!" Vick screamed, no longer able to see what was going on.

"Pull us up! He's d-drowning!" Juliet coughed. The others obeyed, and with another tug Shawn's head broke up through the mud. There was no sound of coughing or gasping, however - the psychic was still a dead weight. "Shawn!" she sobbed as the rope jerked again.

"Juliet, what happened? We heard a scream, and-" Gus cut off, his voice thick with emotion.

"I don't know!" Juliet replied tearfully, glancing up. She noticed with some shock that they were over halfway to the top. Then her legs shifted against Shawn's thighs, and she realized the problem. "Oh no - the pole - it got ripped out of his leg!" she screamed.

"WHAT?" Henry bellowed, panicked. He yanked back as hard as he could on the rope. Lassiter threw himself forward and grabbed the younger woman's arms, which were now in reach. Juliet tightened her legs around Shawn's waist as the Head Detective pulled her up and over the lip of the cistern.

Gus reached over and grabbed Shawn's belt, yanking him onto solid ground. He frantically flipped his best friend over onto his back as Henry threw himself down on his knees on Shawn's other side. There was a ripping sound, and Vick was suddenly on her knees, her penlight in her mouth, frantically wrapping a sleeve of her suit jacket around the gaping hole in the psychic's leg. The hole was jagged, and it was gushing blood. "This isn't good," she muttered around the penlight, securing the sleeve tightly.

"We gotta get him breathing!" Gus man exclaimed, tipping Shawn's head back and pointing a flashlight at his face. He stuck a finger in Shawn's mouth, getting the mud out of the pseudo-psychic's mouth. Henry began compressing Shawn's chest, his features tight with fear.

Lassiter knelt down next to his partner. "You okay?" he asked, his eyes squinted shut and his mouth in a thin line as he quickly examined the blonde with his flashlight. Juliet was covered with a solid layer of brown water, making her hair a bedraggled mess. She was shivering in her sopping wet clothes. "O'Hara? O'Hara. Juliet!" the older man barked finally.

Juliet locked her blue-gray eyes with Lassiter's deep blue ones. She opened her mouth, then closed it soundlessly, nodding. Lassiter noticed, with extreme discomfort, that the Junior Detective's eyes were beginning to well with tears. He hesitated, then hesitantly put a hand on her shoulder.

Juliet blinked, surprised, then flashed him a grateful but watery smile before locking her gaze back on Gus and Henry as they worked on Shawn, still struggling to get him to breathe. Lassiter turned, his face somber as he stared at the limp psychic.

"Come on, kiddo, breathe!" Henry grunted, his eyes misty as he paused to let Gus blow air into Shawn's lungs.

"Don't do this, Shawn, please, don't," the younger man begged, tears silently streaming down his face as the elder Spencer started compressions again.

Suddenly Shawn's back arched slightly, and stream of muck spewed out of his mouth. Gus immediately turned Shawn's head to the side as Shawn started coughing up more of the muck. On the heels of the sludge came vomit as Shawn's stomach tried to purge itself of all of the mud it had acquired. Henry sighed in relief, and Vick slumped forward, the tension flooding from her.

After a long moment, the coughing died down, leaving Shawn wheezing for breath. Henry closer to his son, threading a hand through his filthy, ratty hair. "Easy, son, just take it easy," he murmured soothingly.

Shawn cracked his eyes open. "D-Dad?" The word came out as a throaty breath.

Henry smiled faintly, gently rubbing Shawn's scalp. "Yeah, Shawn, it's me."

"Jules?"

"Right here, Shawn," Juliet called, scrambling forward so that she could look at him. Henry glanced up at her. Her face was completely caked in mud, except for two tear tracks down her cheeks.

Shawn grinned faintly. "Good," he breathed. Then his eyes rolled up into the back of his head, and he went limp again.

"Shawn? Shawn!" Gus called, grabbing his friend's wrist. He could feel a faint rapid pulse. He silently counted for ten seconds, then multiplied the number by six, and his face paled. "His heart rate's practically through the roof!"

"His breathing's not great, either," Henry said, shrugging off his jacket and covering his son's upper torso with it.

"Where the hell are those paramedics?" Lassiter growled, taking off his own coat and laying it on top of Henry's. Gus put his coat on Shawn's legs, noting the blood-soaked sleeve around his friend's leg with worry.

They all glanced up as they heard sirens in the distance. "Oh, thank goodness," Vick breathed in relief, getting to her feet. "I'll direct them over here," she added as she ran back to where they had parked.

Juliet grabbed Shawn's limp hand. It was clammy and covered with muck, but she held on tightly. "Hang on, Shawn. Please," she whispered, tears filling her eyes again. "Please."

_A/N: Well... he's out. Right? _

_... Right. See you tomorrow! Thanks for reading!_

_moogsthewriter_


	10. Waiting Rooms, People Magazines, and Wal

_And we meet again! Just a few review replies today..._

_**hollowgirl22** - Yes, I do enjoy it too much. I'm sure it's going to end up being bad for my health. _

_**Englandlover3** - Another day, another chapter, indeed. Glad you like it so far!_

_**PsychFan81692** - Glad you liked that last chapter! Enjoy this one!_

_**CopyNinAstral** - Thanks for the encouragement. It's good to know I create good images. Thanks for the review!_

_Just a couple things to note about this chapter. One, I am not familiar with medicine. Most of my stuff I looked up online from different websites, and I did try to double check, but if I got something horribly wrong, let me know. Two, I don't own _The Plague, People _magazine, or anything related to Psych. And three... _**Tissue Warning**_. This chapter (I've been told) contains quite a bit of angst, so you may just want to have a tissue, or two, or a box, ready. Enjoy!_

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**Waiting Rooms, _People_ Magazines, and Walks Down Memory Lane**

Burton Guster despised hospital waiting rooms.

With a capital "D-E-S-P-I-S-E-D".

Three hours ago, his best friend - more like his brother, for all intents and purposes - had disappeared into the bowels of the hospital. Despite Henry's bellowing threats and Karen's attempts at overriding hospital authority with her own, all they had found out was Shawn had been sent into surgery for his leg, and he was being treated for severe septic shock. Apparently, his heart had even stopped once on the way in. The harried-looking nurse had assured the pseudo-psychic's father and colleagues she would let them know any information as soon as she was able.

That had been two and a half hours ago.

Within that time, all five of them had managed to take quick showers. Gus, Juliet, and Lassiter had all had extra sets of clothes in their cars to wear, and Vick had made a quick trip back to her house to check on her daughter and grab a change of clothes. Henry, however, had refused to leave the hospital, and instead had put on a spare pair of hospital scrubs while he waited for his clothes to be cleaned in a nearby Laundromat. Then they had all converged in the waiting room, much cleaner than they had been before (although Juliet's skin and hair was still a few shades browner than it had been that morning).

Karen had taken in a travel Sudoku book from home and was currently working on her seventh puzzle. Gus had flipped aimlessly through four different _People_ magazines, noticing with some amusement that the "lifelong" couple in the first magazine had "sadly" broken up by the third.

Henry and Lassiter had taken alternate turns at pacing the length of the room; when one sat down, the other was up and deepening the path in the floor carved by the other one by another micrometer. At the moment, Henry was striding past Gus, and Lassiter was in his seat, his expression dark, his foot bouncing slightly in the air.

Gus stared for a while at Juliet. The blonde had curled up into a small ball on the chair next to him and had been staring at the same spot on the floor the entire time. Every now and then, Gus caught the faint gleam of a tear trickling down her face. She hadn't spoken one word since the Chief had returned, and it appeared she wouldn't be starting any time soon.

As Gus sat in the hard-backed, and extremely uncomfortable, plastic chair, he could clearly remember the first time he had ever been to a waiting room. It was much like this one - smelling strongly of fake pine-scented bleach, with orderlies bustling in and out, a doctor stopping by every hour or two, and a grumpy old secretary, with horn-rimmed glasses securely fastened around her neck by a shiny chain, throwing death glares at anyone who dared to breathe loudly.

Gus' first visit to a waiting room was at the ripe old age of six. _And, strangely enough, it had been Shawn's fault,_ he thought with some sarcasm. Gus, in a fit of young naiveté, had dared Shawn to jump from the tree house Henry had recently completed, never truly imagining Shawn would do such an idiotic thing. Shawn, in true Shawn form, had succeeded in breaking his left arm in three places after falling for almost twelve feet. Gus recalled, with some humor, that Shawn had been more upset at the fact he was banned from the tree house for six months and his dad wouldn't use the siren on his police car on the drive into the hospital than he was at breaking his arm.

That first visit to the waiting room was far from the last. By the time he and Shawn were in high school, the waiting room staff knew the pair on a first name basis. Gus even discovered the cranky old secretary made fabulous oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. She also had a keen sixth sense, and there was always a plate available for the times the Dangerous Duo (their nickname among the staff) came in. Not that Shawn got to eat very many, since he was usually in the back.

Ninety-eight percent of those doctor visits were for Shawn. He was always in for one reason or another - like the time he sliced himself on Jimmy Greisen's switchblade in seventh grade while he was trying to get it open - without Jimmy noticing it was gone. He went home with ten stitches in his left palm. Or the time Jennifer Thory's dad caught his daughter in a lip lock with "that damn Spencer boy" and chased Shawn out of his house with a two-by-four studded with nails their junior year of high school. _That_ particular visit required six stitches and a tetanus shot.

Very rarely did Gus require medical attention for anything beyond mild bumps, scrapes, and bruises. The one time he broke his arm, back in the eighth grade, Shawn had been in the hospital bed right next to him. He had been trying to out-skate Gus to impress Beth Pierce. One moment, they were racing furiously down the street, and the next (Gus couldn't quite remember exactly how), Shawn and Gus were in a painful pile of arms and legs at the base of a tree. Gus had fractured his arm, and Shawn had torn his ACL, which required surgery to fix. That was one scar he bore proudly - it had landed him his first kiss when a tearful Beth made a visit to him while he was recovering (although, as Gus was always quick to point out, Shawn had been so loaded on morphine he barely even remembered the kiss itself).

Gus sighed, drumming his fingers on his leg, glancing at his friends again. Judging by the size of the vein above Henry's right temple, the older man was about ready to explode. Gus was rather impressed Henry had been able to control himself for this long - normally he was jumping down every nurse's throat, demanding information on Shawn's injuries. Gus suspected the Chief's presence in the room was largely responsible for the former cop's new-found self-control.

The potential Henry explosion was temporarily put on hold when a tall, gangly doctor with thin and graying hair stepped into the room. He looked at them all knowingly with sharp green eyes behind small, wire-framed glasses. "You're all with Shawn, I take it," he stated, rather than questioned. "I am Dr. Bernard Rieux."

"Like the guy from _The Plague_?" Juliet squeaked in surprise, untangling herself from her chair.

Rieux smiled. "Yes. It was my mother's favorite book, and when she married my father - well, she simply had to name her first son Bernard. Lucky me," he said rather dryly. "I'm impressed - not a lot of people seem to know that book."

"Kinda morbid for a favorite book," Lassiter muttered. Vick and Juliet both shot him glares. Rieux merely chuckled.

"Yes, well, my mother had a strange sense of humor. I always wondered if she was slightly bipolar," he replied, his face adopting a far-away look.

"That's all fine and dandy, but what about Shawn? How is he?" Henry demanded gruffly, striding to within a foot of the doctor. He stared him right in the eye. "And tell it to me straight up - no beatin' around the bush."

Rieux was far from intimidated. In fact, he looked rather understanding. "He's fighting, but it's not looking good, I'm afraid. Come, let's sit down. It's gonna be quite a list," he said solemnly, looking at the chairs. Henry's jaw tightened, but he immediately dropped into the chair next to Vick. Gus felt a hand grab his, and he looked down to see Juliet's hand fiercely holding his own. He gave a sympathetic squeeze, then turned back to the doctor.

Rieux dropped into an empty chair with a sigh. He frowned, shifting his weight slightly. "Hmm. I really do need to get these things replaced," he muttered. When Lassiter cleared his throat rather loudly, he adjusted his glasses and said in a louder tone, "Let's start with the rather minor injuries. Shawn landed quite badly on his right side, particularly on his shoulder. He has snapped his collarbone, and his shoulder was dislocated. He also had a small fracture in his ulna. There was a deep gash from his right wrist almost to his elbow. We closed that up with twenty-six stitches.

"Bypassing the stab wound to his leg for the moment, he also stretched both the anterior cruciate ligament and the posterior cruciate ligament of his right knee. There is a possibility one or both of them are torn, but for the moment, the swelling in the knee is interfering too much with the scans to know for sure. We may have to go back and fix those later. Shawn cracked both the tibia and fibula of his right leg, as well as badly spraining his ankle. He also has a minor concussion."

Rieux paused for a moment, taking in each member of his audience. Henry's face was pale, and if his jaw were to get any stiffer, he would probably start loosing teeth. Gus looked like he was about to be sick, while Juliet's nails were digging into her friend's hand, her eyes wide with fear. Lassiter's expression was carefully neutral, except for a small tic in his jaw, and Vick's eyes had narrowed to slits. Rieux closed his eyes for a brief moment before continuing.

"As you probably guessed, our biggest concern is the wound to Shawn's upper thigh. Thankfully, it missed his femoral artery completely, as the pole went through the outer thigh. But because it was so forcefully removed, there is quite a bit of damage. How large did you estimate it to be?"

They all looked at Juliet, who swallowed and pulled her hand out of Gus'. "I never really saw it, but by the feel of it…" She trailed off, using her trembling hands to mentally feel the bar again. "Three inches, maybe?" she said finally, her hands dropping back to her lap.

Rieux's eyes widened behind his glasses. "Really? That's interesting. The bar must have ripped out rather cleanly then, because that is about all the larger the wound is. Nevertheless, the damage is rather extensive. It's going to require surgery to fix at some point. But as you may have heard, Shawn is currently battling a pretty severe case of sepsis."

"How bad?" Gus asked softly.

Rieux sighed. "His fever topped out at 106.2 degrees for a brief moment," he declared grimly.

Juliet and Vick both gasped, and Henry muttered, "Holy crap."

"We did operate to remove some of the infected tissue around the wound on his leg, but Shawn had two seizures while on the table. I won't try to soften it for you - they were quite severe. We packed his body in ice and took the opportunity to wash the filth off his body with cold water. When I left him, just before I came here, his fever was holding at 104.3 degrees."

"Sweet justice, Spencer," Lassiter breathed, his mask cracking slightly to reveal some concern in his eyes.

"There's more, I'm afraid," Rieux told them all, his eyes grim. When they didn't answer, he continued, "Shawn's organ systems have begun shutting down because of the infection. We currently have him on a ventilator as well as hemodialysis. He's on a drug cocktail at the moment, which we will be monitoring closely. The odds are the different drugs are going to change, so I won't waste time explaining them at the moment. He's been given two units of blood already. I've also ordered him to be put given total parenteral nutrition, which is feeding though an IV. Hopefully that will help boost his systems."

"What are his chances?" Henry asked softly.

Rieux paused for a moment, pondering his words. "Less than stellar, I'm afraid," he said finally. "Typically, the death rate for sepsis is around forty percent. However, Shawn has a very advanced case, causing the mortality to jump almost exponentially. At the risk of sounding like a soap opera doctor, I will admit the next forty-eight hours are crucial. If his body begins to respond to the drugs right away, his chances for pulling through are pretty good. We will be monitoring him very closely to watch for any change. But…"

"But?" Vick prompted.

Rieux lifted his glasses slightly to pinch the bridge of his nose. "There is some concern the seizures may have caused brain damage. His second one was rather severe, and we had to resuscitate him on the table. It also caused a very minor cardiac arrest. That's when we put him on the ventilator."

There was a long moment of silence following this grim announcement. "Can we go in and see him?" Juliet finally asked faintly.

Rieux regarded them all for a while, his gaze lingering particularly on Henry. After a moment, he smiled faintly and said, "I will allow it. However, I can only it for a short time. But I think you are going to want to stay with Shawn as much as possible, correct?" he added, looking at Henry.

The older Spencer blinked in surprise. "Yes, I do," he declared. "Thank you."

"No problem. I'll go get it straightened out with the nurses and the receptionist, and then I'll come and fetch you all when he's ready. I'm sorry I don't have more good news for you. This is going to be a tough fight for your son," Rieux said softly, standing up.

Henry got to his feet as well. "Thank you for being honest. It - it helps," he said gruffly, his voice hitching slightly as he shook the doctor's hand.

"You're very welcome. I'll be back in a bit," Rieux replied kindly. The others murmured their thanks as he left the waiting room.

Henry collapsed back into his chair with a sigh. "Kiddo," he breathed, rubbing a hand over his face.

Lassiter got to his feet. They all looked at him as he cleared his throat, a rather nervous expression on his face. "I need to get back to the station. There's a lot of work I need to do on this case and on O'Riley's case. Say hi to Spencer for me," he muttered, abruptly turning and leaving.

The others just stared at him with a shell-shocked expression for a moment. Vick suddenly leapt to her feet, a subtle fury on her face. But before she could open her mouth, Gus was up and saying, "Let me go talk to him."

And without another word, he strode out into the hall after Lassiter. "Detective, wait up a sec!" he called.

Ahead of him, Lassiter paused, then turned around, a look of confusion on his face. "What?" he demanded somewhat harshly.

Gus ignored his tone and said simply, "I think Shawn would want _you_ to say hi." Lassiter blinked in astonishment. "Look, whether you care to admit it or not, Shawn thinks of you as a friend. I think - no, I _know_ - it would hurt his feelings to find out that you didn't even visit him when he's-"

"When he's what? Dying?" Lassiter exclaimed softly, flinging his hands around in a sort of panic. Seeing the shocked look on Gus' face, he sighed and said, "Look, Gus, I've got a lot of work to do. I just - I can't-" The normally stoic detective spluttered to a stop for a moment, his jaw tense. Gus couldn't exactly tell what was going on in the detective's mind, but it was obviously an inner struggle. "I can't do this now," Lassiter finally told him, splaying his hands out in a half-defeated gesture. "I just can't. Maybe - maybe later, I'll - I'll drop by. Okay?"

Gus stared at him for a moment before softly replying, "Okay."

Lassiter jerked his head in a sort of awkward nod before turning to leave. He paused, then turned back and admitted, somewhat stiffly, "He does good work. Spencer - Shawn - I mean. I don't know how - not psychic crap, though - but… he does good. And whether I like it or not-" At this point, Gus wasn't sure if Lassiter was addressing him or trying to convince himself. "- he's part of my team. I guess. If I have to let him," he added hurriedly, awkwardly rubbing his neck.

Gus smiled wryly. "I won't tell him you said that. He'd never let either of us live it down." The faintest hint of a smile played at Lassiter's lips. "But thanks. It's good to know."

This time Lassiter's nod was smooth, and he strode down the hall, looking somewhat less burdened than he had before. Gus stared after him with a faint smile for a moment before heading back into the waiting room. Vick, O'Hara, and Henry were looking at him expectantly as he walked in. He just shrugged and said, "I don't think he's comfortable in this situation."

"And any of us are?" Henry exclaimed angrily.

"Don't be too hard on him, Mr. Spencer," Juliet said softly. They all looked at her sharply, and she couldn't help but smile. "I think as much as he hates to admit it, Carlton is coming to respect Shawn's work. I think he almost considers him to be a co-worker. Almost." Vick smiled and nodded in agreement while Henry just snorted. His expression had softened, though.

They all turned as Dr. Rieux reentered the waiting room. He smiled softly. "Follow me, please," he said, waving them towards him.

Silently they made their way down the hall. Gus knew that there were sounds all around them - machines beeping, nurses talking with patients, and a tinny voice requesting Dr. Stevens come to radiology echoing over the loudspeakers. But it was as if someone had slipped a set of headphones over his ears as Rieux's words finally settled in his brain. All he could hear was _not looking good… severe case of sepsis… organ systems shutting down… brain damage… cardiac arrest._

The grim words repeated over and over again, pounding in his skull in time with his pulse. It was all he could do to keep moving towards Shawn's room. The fact his best friend was _dying_ was almost overwhelming. Gus blinked rapidly, trying to stop his eyes from burning.

He suddenly felt a presence next to him. Glancing down, he saw Juliet gripping his arm, looking up at him with wide eyes. "He's gonna pull through," she murmured softly. "He will."

Gus couldn't hold back a faint smile. "We won't give him any other choice," he replied.

"He's in here," Rieux called, pulling the pair's attention back to him. They were standing outside a door. There was a small window into the room, but the blinds had been pulled for privacy.

"I'll warn you, he probably doesn't look anything like himself at the moment. He's also under a mild sedation, so he won't be able to respond," Rieux continued. "Please, try to keep your visit short. There isn't a lot of space in the room. You are his father, correct?" he added, looking at Henry. When Henry nodded, Rieux said, "I'll allow you to stay with Shawn as long as possible, Mr. Spencer, but if anyone orders you for any reason to leave the room, you must comply, okay? I know it will be hard, but if something were to happen, the nurses and myself need all the room we can get to work. Understand?"

"Yeah," Henry croaked. "Yeah, I understand."

"Good. You can head in when you're ready. Here's my card. It has my pager number on it. If you feel the need to contact me, for any reason at all, please, don't be afraid to call me," Rieux told them, handing a small white card to Henry.

"Thank you," the elder Spencer murmured gratefully, pocketing the card.

"You're welcome. I'll see you all later," Rieux replied, bowing his head slightly before turning and walking down the hall.

They all glanced at each other for a moment. Finally Henry opened the door and they all stepped into the room. Gus felt his breath catch in his throat at the sight of his best friend.

For a moment, it was hard to pick out Shawn from the machines. The harsh sound of the respirator filled the silence of the room, accentuated by the slow, steady beep of the heart monitor. Shawn looked positively tiny on the bed. Most of his face was obscured by the tube in his throat. The dirt had been washed off his body, leaving pale, pale skin behind, except for the slight flush of his cheeks that hinted at the fever raging through his body. The swelling in his right shoulder was clearly visible under the thin hospital gown, and his arm was encased in a sling. His leg was hidden under the thin sheet, but they could see bulges from the bandages encased around it.

"Oh, Shawn," Juliet whispered, a hand flying to her mouth.

Gus swallowed hard. He had never seen Shawn in this kind of shape. It was almost physically painful to see someone so normally full of life lying so close to death... "Mr. Guster?"

Gus blinked, startled, as he looked at Karen. The older woman was staring at him with her sharp, understanding gaze, one hand on his arm. "Are you all right?" she asked softly.

Gus swallowed again, nodding faintly. "It's just - _wrong_ - I…" His croaky voice spluttered out quickly as his gaze fell back on his friend. He noticed with some surprise that Henry had moved a chair as close to the bed as he could get. His hands were folded calmly in his lap as he stared intently at his son.

"I know what you mean," Vick agreed softly as they moved to fill in the space around the bed. She stared sadly at the inert form. "I've never seen him this still."

"That's because he's never been this still," Henry interjected, his eyes focused on Shawn's pale face. "Kid would always move around, even in his sleep. Even in the womb, he was kickin' and movin' around as soon as he could."

"That doesn't surprise me one bit," Juliet said as she stood next to the older man. With a sigh, she sat cautiously on the edge of the bed and gently laid a hand on Shawn's free arm, being careful to avoid the IV needles. She winced inwardly at the heat radiating from his body.

For a long moment, they were completely silent, watching Shawn's chest rise and fall faintly in time with the ventilator. Finally Gus broke the silence. "You know, I've gotta give Shawn credit for one thing," he whispered wryly. "When he gets hurt, he goes all out."

"That's for sure," Henry agreed.

"You know what he told me this morning?" Juliet murmured, her hands lightly skimming over Shawn's bruised fingers. "Was it really this morning?" she added in a whisper before shaking herself and continuing, "He said he got up at three-thirty this morning to fix a heater for a neighbor."

The others seemed surprised. "No wonder he said he needed his coffee," Vick murmured, a hint of embarrassment in her voice.

"I guess that kinda explains why O'Riley was able to grab him so easily," Henry muttered. "He has a tendency to space out when he's that tired.

They all jumped slightly when Juliet suddenly hissed in pain. "Sorry," she apologized quickly, grabbing at her back. "I moved wrong."

Gus' eyes widened. In all the commotion over Shawn, he had practically forgotten that Juliet had been tossed around in that pit as well. Judging by the looks on Karen's and Henry's faces, they had as well. "O'Hara, let me take you home," Vick offered. "You should get some rest."

"But-"

"Listen to the Chief, detective," Henry told her sternly. His gaze flicked to Gus. "You can all come back in the morning. I'll make sure to spread the word along if something happens."

"Thanks, Henry," Vick replied, moving to the door. She paused and turned back. "Coming, O'Hara?"

After a moment, Juliet reluctantly stood up. She brushed Shawn's hand again, looking at his face sadly. "Wake up soon," she breathed softly before heading out after the Chief.

There was silence for another moment. "Gus," Henry finally said softly. Gus tore his eyes from Shawn's face to look Henry in the eyes. "Go home. Rest. Come back in the morning."

Gus sighed. "Mr. Spencer, you know Shawn's like a brother. I can't just-"

"It's because of Shawn that I'm sending you home. You know as well as I do he would want you to get some rest," Henry cut in, his voice firm but his tone almost gentle. Gus blinked in faint surprise. "Besides, I don't think it would do you any good to wear yourself out now. He won't be waking up for a while."

"It's not that-" Gus suddenly stopped himself at Henry's sharp look.

"Don't think that, Gus. Ever."

Gus swallowed and nodded, his eyes suddenly burning again. He silently made his way to the door. He paused, glancing back over his shoulder. "Call me if anything happens? Any thing at all?"

"I will," Henry replied. "I will."

Gus nodded, his gaze returning to Shawn one last time. His hand clenched on the doorframe as he stared at the battered, lifeless shell that held his friend. He took a deep breath, then turned away, keeping his mind carefully blank as he made his way back to his car.

As he drove in the drizzling dark, his mind floated back to some of the crazier times he and Shawn had had together. Like Mexico. Trips to the border were in first and third place for most memorable moments. _Which, in Shawn lingo, equals "illegal and nearly deadly" moments,_ Gus thought wryly.

That number two spot was definitely borderline illegal, he reflected as he took a subconscious turn onto a familiar street. True, he couldn't really remember what had happened _exactly_ - he had the alcohol and the concussion to thank for that - but there had definitely been some shady characters at that pool hall. Shawn still insisted it had been hilarious, but Gus knew for a fact Shawn's sense of fun was rather warped. Not to mention the fact Shawn either wouldn't, or more likely _couldn't_, say where they had even been that night.

Gus shook his head, a wry smile pulling at the corner of his mouth as he unlocked the front door. Some of the times with Shawn had been insane, but he wouldn't have traded any of them away. _Well, except maybe that second trip to the border- _

He blinked in surprise as he flicked on the light. Instead of his apartment, he was staring at the Psych office. He hadn't even realized he came this way. The office was in the opposite direction from his apartment. He remained where he was for a moment, simply looking around the office. Finally he stepped inside and closed the door behind him, the overhead bell Shawn had insisted on installing tinkling softly.

As he moved through the office, Gus couldn't help but notice the signs of Shawn in the building. A pineapple sat on top of the small fridge. Scribbled remnants of writing were scattered over the clear dry erase board. Paper balls rested in a small mound at the bottom of the garbage can beneath their small basketball hoop, and a smoothie container rested next to an open bag of peanut butter M&Ms on Shawn's desk.

Gus made his way to the messy desk, his eyes remaining on the smoothie container. He eased himself down into the chair and just stared at his friend's cluttered desktop for a long moment. Suddenly the memory of Shawn lying lifeless in his hospital bed sprang to the forefront of his mind. The fact that he had possibly just seen his best friend alive for the last time overwhelmed him.

For the first time since he was fourteen, Burton Guster cried.

* * *

Henry Spencer shifted in his chair, his eyes not leaving his son's face. The face that had remained motionless for the last hour. The face that was mostly hidden by the ventilator tube.

Henry Spencer was not an emotional man. But neither was he a heartless man. He was far from heartless, although he was careful not to show it. He kept his emotions well-hidden and buried. He never showed them to anyone. Especially not to those who were closest to him. Especially not to his son.

But now, with his son - his only child - lying at death's door, Henry's resolve was beginning to break, and he knew it. He had managed to keep it together in front of the four nurses who had checked on Shawn since Gus had left, but only barely.

"Well, this is another fine mess you've gotten into, kiddo."

When the words finally came out, they were rather croaky and gruff. Henry paused to clear his throat, then continued.

"I thought I taught you better than that, Shawn. Always be mindful of your surroundings. But then," he added after a moment, "I guess it wasn't really your fault. A parking lot in front of police headquarters isn't normally a place where you have to be careful."

The elder Spencer fell silent again, staring at his unconscious son, pondering over his next words. _Why is this so hard to say? He's my kid, for gosh sakes! It really shouldn't be this hard._

Henry had always been careful about what he chose to reveal to his son. He knew that more often than not, his parenting skills had been viewed as… lacking, to put it in good terms. What most people didn't realize, though, was Henry knew Shawn was more like him than he realized. And while Henry had always hoped Shawn would follow in his footsteps, he wanted to make sure he didn't stumble in the same places as his father. He didn't want his son to have to go through some of the traumas in life he had experienced.

Perhaps it was his own experience that made things like this so hard for him. He had always been told men with emotions were weak. Showing emotion led to trouble. Shawn seemed to be the perfect example of that. The kid practically wore his heart on his sleeve, and it made him vulnerable. If something happened to a friend, Shawn would hold himself responsible. Henry had heard from Gus that some of these cases had hit the younger Spencer hard; so hard, in fact, that he would often go practically without sleep until the cases were solved.

But sometimes, Henry was almost jealous of his son. Shawn lived life to the fullest, never holding back. He had the sort of personality that drew people in - people couldn't help but like Shawn. And Henry knew that Shawn had a heart for helping people; that was one of the reasons why he didn't turn him into Vick for his "psychic" act. His methods may have been unorthodox, but Henry knew that all Shawn wanted was to help.

Henry sighed, his shoulders sagging. Inwardly, it was easy to admit he was proud of his son. Even when Shawn was flitting around from job to job, Henry had held a certain pride for him. He may not have approved of Shawn's travels, but he also knew that Shawn was a restless spirit, one that couldn't be tied down too easily. The irony that Shawn seemed to have settled down back home was not lost on Henry.

That restless spirit seemed to be gone at the moment. To Henry, all that was currently lying on the hospital bed was the husk that held that spirit. It caused Henry's heart to twist painfully, knowing his son lingered so close to death. His heart twisted even more when he thought of all the things that he had left unsaid over the years. He knew that somewhere deep down, Shawn heard the silent messages his father had been sending him over the years, but still… they should've been said more than they had.

"Look, Shawn, I know - I know the doctors say you can't hear me. That you might even have… brain damage. That you might… might not make it," Henry muttered thickly. He blinked away the mist that had covered his eyes and leaned in closer to the bed.

"But I also know damn well that you don't listen to authority, kid. So don't start listening to them now. You've got to pull through this. You've got too much to lose here, son. You've got friends who care about you, colleagues that respect you, and a-"

He stopped for a moment, too choked up to speak. He slowly reached over and grabbed Shawn's limp hand with his own shaking one. "And a father that loves you," he whispered finally. His eyes clouded over with tears again as he continued, "I do, Shawn. I know I don't say it near enough, but I do love you. I hope - I hope you know that. And I'm proud of you. I may not agree with your methods, but… well, then again, I never really have, have I?" he added wryly. "But I'm proud of the good you've been doing lately. More proud than you'll ever know."

He fell silent again for a moment, a faint smile pulling at his lips. "And you've got that O'Hara. I see what you like in her, kid. She's got a good head on her shoulders. And she seems to like you. Trust me, that's a bonus," he declared.

There was no response; only the monotonous sound of the respirator working Shawn's lung and the steady, high-pitched beeps monitoring Shawn's heart. Henry sighed wearily, staring at the pale, limp hand in his own. It was burning up beneath his touch. He shifted his hand slightly so his thumb was slowly rubbing back and forth over the back of Shawn's hand. When he spoke again, his voice was thick with emotion, accented by the two small drops that landed on the thin sheets.

"Wake up, Shawn. Please. You've got to wake up."

_A/N: So? Do I need to provide some more tissues? Here y'all go! Let me know what you think! Oh, and as a heads-up, there's one more chapter and an epilogue after this, so it should be all wrapped up by Thursday. Thanks for reading, and don't forget to tip your waitress! (hinthint) See you tomorrow!_

_moogsthewriter_


	11. One of These Days, You'll Have to Tell M

_Alright - last chapter before the epilogue! Thanks so much to all of you guys out there - I really appreciate all of your support. Now for a few review replies..._

_**Solitaire42** - It's alright - I'm glad you're reviewing now. And I know what you mean - I've felt that way about many stories myself. I'm glad you're enjoying this, though! Thanks for the review!_

_**avidreader** - Thanks! And don't worry - I'll finish!_

_**TwilightG** - Here's another box of Kleenex! Glad you liked it! I have a feeling you'll like this chapter... (hinthint)_

_**hollowgirl22** - Oh, man, I'm so sorry for your friend's mom - I'm praying for all of you, okay? Hopefully this chapter will cheer you up a little bit!_

_**raindropsX** - Here's a tissue for you!_

_**Niente Zero** - Thanks! I'm glad you liked it! _

_**Saucy-Duck** - Thanks so much! And I'm glad you like "Vengeance" - I did update it, so go check that out! (I will probably end up starting to post that here soon, just FYI.)_

_Just a couple of notes... the beginning is supposed to be stream-of-consciousness style, so it could be a little vague, but that's how it's supposed to be. Also, I didn't come up with the idea of Shawn, Henry, and Gus knowing sign-language - that was someone else on Psychfic, okay? Standard disclaimer still applies... I think that's it. Enjoy!_

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**One of These Days You'll Have to Tell Me...**

Blackness.

All around him. Why was it so black?

Pain. There was pain, too. Lots and lots. Roaring in his ears, drowning out all of the other sounds, blocking out every other sense. Then a sharp pang in his chest, and suddenly the blackness became blindingly white.

More pain. Pain in his chest. Lungs. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. Couldn't see. Couldn't hardly think. Only feel. Pain was existence. Pain was bad.

Pressure. A soothing pressure on his scalp. Familiar, comforting. And a voice. There was a voice with the pressure. A voice he knew. Needed to see - had to hear the voice.

"Dad?"

More pain, this time in his throat. But the soothing voice was back, and yes, it was him. Bits and pieces of memories returned, and another name passed through his lips.

"Jules?"

Then song. No, not song, but a voice that at the moment sounded like one. She was there. Safe.

"Good."

He could let go now. Needed the blackness. Where was the black? Must be close. The roaring in his ears was coming back. Not as loud. Or maybe louder. He couldn't remember.

Panicked voices with muffled words. Someone was in trouble. He vaguely wondered who. Him? Probably. Usually was. He didn't want them to worry. But he needed to return to blackness. To escape the pain.

Then the song-voice was back. Pleading to hang on. He wanted to. Despite the pain, he wanted to. For that voice, he would do anything. But he couldn't anymore. Maybe later. But not now.

Blackness returned. Pain ebbed. He floated. Like he was on a wave. Or flying. Or something. He wasn't really sure. Peace. There was peace. That he knew.

Time passed. How much? He didn't know. Moments… minutes… millennia… it didn't really matter. Not any more. As long as pain was gone. Time didn't matter to him.

But then it came back. Violently. Angrily. Pain so bad he felt like dying. Was he? Or was he already dead? Could there be pain if he was dead?

With the new pain came the voice. And the pressure on his head. It hurt, but not as bad. Almost felt good. He tried focusing on the touch, tried blocking out pain.

The voice wanted painkillers. Why? Didn't the voice know _he_ was in pain? Didn't it care? He tried to say something. Had to say something. Needed relief. What was blocking his throat? Relief. Where was relief? Did the voice understand?

It did. It was soothing again. Calming. Murmuring reassurances. They didn't make sense, but he still felt comforted.

The pain receded gradually. He let his mind drift, content with hearing the voice. "It's gonna be okay, son. You're gonna be fine."

Blackness.

* * *

"…woke up briefly yesterday when they were changing the bandages. He was in a lot of pain, so they gave him some more morphine. He should be waking up any time now."

_Why's Dad talking so quietly?_ Shawn Spencer wondered faintly as he regained consciousness. He blinked… or tried to. His eyelids didn't seem to be cooperating at the moment. He tried to focus his ears, but became even more puzzled when he heard a steady beep and a mechanic whoosh. What had happened?

"Thank goodness," a female voice sighed in relief. "It's about time we got some good news."

"No kidding," another voice cut in, his voice also quiet.

_Gus? Jules?_ Why were they in his room watching him sleep? That was flat-out creepy. Not to mention his dad being there, too. Since when did his dad watch him sleep?

Shawn tried to say something, since he still couldn't get his eyelids to raise up. Panic surged like a growing bubble inside him when he felt something sticking down his throat - something that was _not_ supposed to be there. Then his gag reflex started going, and he tried to raise his arms to get it out, but his arms were just as responsive as his eyelids, which meant they weren't, and the beeping was getting faster and louder, and -

"Shawn! Calm down!"

Henry's rough voice cut through the haze, causing Shawn to freeze for a moment as several hands pressed down on his left arm. Wait, why couldn't he move his right arm? And his leg - why did his leg ache? And his chest was starting to throb. What was going on? The panic started to resurface, drowning out Juliet's worried cries and Gus' pleadings.

"Shawn, look at me, son. Open your eyes."

There was his dad again. In his no-nonsense voice. The voice that had told him countless times to close his eyes was now ordering him to open them. How ironic was that? "Shawn."

Was Shawn going crazy, or was there blatant worry in his father's voice? Something must be wrong if he could hear that. He had to see where he was. He had to see what was going on. He focused all of his energy into his eyelids, and after another moment, light and blurred images streamed in. He blinked a few times, trying to clear the picture up.

Three faces hovered above him. Three familiar, worried faces. He tried to say something, but that thing was still blocking his throat. He needed it out - had to get it out. He was going to choke to death and they were going to stand by and let him? What was happening?

"Shawn, calm down," Juliet said soothingly. "You're on a respirator. It's helping you breathe."

Shawn blinked in surprise, his eyes flicking to each face, finally landing on his father. "It's alright, kiddo," Henry told him. "You're in the hospital."

Shawn's eyebrows furrowed. He slid his arm out from under Gus' and Juliet's hands and frantically began signing. He winced in pain as he jerked his right shoulder. _This is difficult with only one hand_, he thought vaguely, modifying his signs slightly.

_What happened? _

"You were kidnapped from the police station and tossed in a pit," Gus replied, his eyes recognizing the signs faster than Henry's could. Shawn's disconcerted gaze shifted over to his best friend. Yes, Gus would know the signs. Henry may have taught them to Shawn, but Gus used them more in high school. Always wanted to stay out of trouble, which meant they needed a creative way to talk during class. "Do you remember?" Gus asked, his dark eyes wide

Shawn blinked, trying to make his foggy brain work. Images started coming back to him. Flashes of memory - falling down; the pole in his leg; Juliet trying to rescue him; the water climbing over their heads…

His eyes shot to Juliet's face. She stared, slightly confused, as he tried to sign something to her.

"She's fine, Shawn," Henry cut in, recognizing the signs. Juliet nodded immediately, smiling.

Shawn sighed in relief, sinking back into his pillows slightly. _Out._

"You want us to leave?" Gus asked, confused.

Shawn shook his head slightly, then repeated, _Out. _He pointed at the ventilator tube.

"He wants the tube out," Juliet clarified, even as Henry moved to the door to flag down a nurse. Shawn sighed again, letting his eyes slide shut.

"Shawn, I don't think they're gonna take it out if you fall asleep again," Gus cut in, causing Shawn's eyes to fly back open.

_I'm awake! _

Gus chuckled. "Yeah, I figured you would be."

Twenty minutes later, the ventilator was gone, the bed was raised up, an oxygen mask dangled under Shawn's chin, and Henry was spoon-feeding him some ice chips. "Thanks," Shawn whispered breathily around the ice chip. His throat burned, but at least the tube was out. "Wha's wrong with me?"

"Besides the normal?" Gus asked, his face serious, his eyes sparkling with mischief. Shawn shot him a look.

"You were fighting a pretty bad case of sepsis," Henry told him softly, giving him another few ice chips. Shawn noticed the mischievous look in Gus' eyes disappear immediately. "That pit screwed you up pretty badly."

"How badly?" Shawn asked, his voice sounding a little stronger.

"Broken collarbone, broken arm, fractured both bones in your lower leg, torn ACL, stretched PCL, bruised ribs, dislocated shoulder, small concussion, sliced arm," Henry said tonelessly. "Not to mention that hole in your thigh. All on your right side. And the sepsis almost killed you, kid."

Juliet stared at Henry like he had grown another head; Gus looked faintly surprised at the elder Spencer; Shawn, however, seemed unfazed by his father's tactless speech. "106 fever, two seizures, minor heart attack-"

That last one made Shawn blink. "Heart attack?"

"Very minor, but yeah. Heart attack," Henry replied seriously, giving Shawn another spoonful of ice. "You were on dialysis up until yesterday, kid. You've gone through enough different drugs to supply a small country. They didn't think you were gonna make it."

"Showed them," Shawn muttered, a faint smirk pulling at his lips.

Gus and Henry snorted while Juliet laughed. "Yeah, you did," the blonde said, her eyes shining. "I'd better head back to the station - spread the good news," she added, standing straight.

"I'll drop you off," Gus offered. "No sense in making you pay for a cab. I'll be back later, okay, Shawn?"

"M'kay, dude," Shawn replied, waving a little with his free hand. "See ya, Jules."

"Bye, Shawn. I'm glad you're awake," Juliet replied with a grin as she headed out the door.

"Hey, Gus," Shawn called, causing his friend to pause mid-stride on his way out.

"Yeah?"

Shawn grinned. "Get me a smoothie?"

Gus rolled his eyes. "I'll see what I can do," he said exasperatedly, failing to hide a grin. "See ya."

And just like that, Shawn was left in a silent room with his father. He shifted on the bed slightly as Henry set the cup and plastic spoon aside. After a long, rather uncomfortable moment, Henry croaked, "You scared me to death."

"Sorry," Shawn whispered back, fiddling with the blankets under his left hand. "Um… how long was I out?"

"Nine days."

Shawn's eyes opened wide as he looked at his father. He noticed faintly that Henry looked tired and wan. The lines on his face had been carved deeper, and there were some serious bags under his eyes. "When's the last time you got more than three hours of sleep at a time?" he demanded softly.

Henry smirked. "Ten days ago," he replied truthfully.

"That bad?"

"That bad," Henry told him. He paused, as if deciding whether or not to say something, before continuing slowly, "I really thought I was going to lose you."

"Dad-"

"Just hear me out a sec, will ya?" Henry sighed, rubbing a hand over his stubbly face. "When I saw you down in that pit, I just - and then the first time I saw you after we got you in the hospital - I thought… I know I never say it, but-"

"Dad, you don't have to say it," Shawn cut in. "I already know. Psychic, remember?" he added with a smirk, tapping at his temple.

Henry snorted. "Don't give me that load of bull, kid," he shot back. Shawn merely grinned. Henry shook his head, and his face sobered as he stared at his son. The grin slowly slid off the younger's face. "Shawn, I-"

"Knock, knock," a voice suddenly called. Shawn glanced up and saw a grayed head peering into the room. "Glad to hear you're finally awake, Shawn," the man greeted, his green eyes twinkling as he stepped into the room. "You gave us all quite a scare. I'm Dr. Rieux."

Shawn's eyes widened. "I'm not gonna catch the plague, am I?" he asked, the smile at the corner of his mouth canceling out the effect of the fearful tone.

"No, I doubt it," Rieux laughed. He paused thoughtfully and said, "Although that would be an incredible coincidence, wouldn't it? Almost ironic." His expression sobered a bit when he drew up to the bed. "I'm afraid I'm gonna have to test out your leg, son. We need to see if you've suffered any nerve damage."

He gently pulled the sheet aside to reveal Shawn's heavily bandaged leg. He had a cast from just below his knee to his ankle, and his thigh was swathed in bandages. Shawn tensed as Rieux gently placed his hands on the cast. "Are you ready?"

Shawn opened his mouth to reply when he suddenly felt something gripping his left hand. He glanced over and saw his father holding his hand, looking at him encouragingly. "You can do this, Shawn. Just focus."

Shawn nodded. "I'm ready."

Rieux began manipulating Shawn's leg, trying to see how well he could use the muscles. He didn't move it much, both for fear of ripping the stitches as well as jostling the broken bones. But even the slight movement sent fiery waves of pain racing up Shawn's leg. The younger Spencer clenched his teeth and squeezed his father's hand, determined not to cry out in pain. One whimper squeaked past his lips, and Henry squeezed Shawn's hand, amazed at the strength in the hand squeezing back. He was even more amazed that Shawn could move his leg when Rieux told him to.

At long last, Rieux eased Shawn's leg back down on the bed. "I'm sorry about that," the elderly doctor apologized, readjusting the blankets as Shawn panted softly. "But the fact you're in such pain is actually a pretty good sign. That means the pole didn't affect your nerve endings too badly. I can't imagine you'll get away without a little damage, but I think you'll make a great recovery. Would you like some medication?" he asked, his green eyes full of concern.

Shawn swallowed and let out a shaky breath. "Y-yes, please," he breathed, slowly releasing his grip on his father's hand. Henry let his hand drop into his lap, slowly flexing his fingers to get blood back into the tips, his forehead wrinkled faintly in worry. Shawn had to be in a _lot_ of pain to even begin considering taking an aspirin. The fact he had agreed so willingly to medication was an indication of how much pain he was in at the moment.

"I'll be back soon," Rieux said gently, shuffling out of the room.

Silence fell over the pair. "Sorry about your hand," Shawn muttered, his voice raspy.

Henry shrugged, grabbing the cup with the melting ice chips. "Don't worry about it, kid," he replied, holding out the spoon. Shawn shot him a grateful look as he accepted the mouthful of ice. "But I will admit, your grip's not half bad."

"'Specially since I jus' wo' up from a coma, ri'?" Shawn asked cheekily around the ice in his mouth. Henry nodded, stirring the ice with the spoon. Shawn tipped his head slightly to the side as he watched his father stare at the steadily melting ice. He swallowed and said softly, "Dad, go home."

Henry's head shot up. "I mean it. I'm gonna be fine. You need sleep," Shawn continued, relaxing back against the pillows.

Henry was silent as he looked at Shawn in the eyes. Finally, he declared simply, "One of these days, you'll have to tell me what happened in Mexico."

Shawn stared at him blankly for a moment. Finally he chuckled and was about to reply when Rieux reentered the room with a small paper cup that rattled with pills inside. "Here you go," he said cheerily, handing Shawn the cup. Shawn immediately tipped the cup back into his mouth and swallowed the pills dry, then washed them down with the cup of water Rieux was offering. "I'll check back in a couple of hours, okay, Shawn?"

"M'kay," Shawn replied, his eyes already starting to droop shut. Rieux smiled, nodded at Henry, and left the room once more.

"I'll leave once your asleep. Okay?" Henry said before Shawn could open his mouth. Shawn blinked slowly and nodded as the words registered. _Those have to be the fastest-working painkillers I've ever seen,_ Henry thought.

"Thanks, Dad," Shawn murmured, burrowing deeper into his pillows and letting his eyes slide shut. "An' I can't talk about Mexico. What happens in Mex'co stays in Mex'co."

Henry smiled, grabbing his hand once more. "Go to sleep. Gus should be here when you wake up," he replied, giving Shawn's hand a gentle squeeze. Shawn didn't reply; his breathing was already deep and heavy. Henry gave his hand one final squeeze and pulled the oxygen mask over Shawn's face before standing and stretching. He grabbed his coat off the back of his chair and moved toward the door.

"Love ya, Dad."

Henry froze, then turned back to face the bed at the quiet, muffled voice. Shawn's eyes were cracked just the slightest bit, and under the clear plastic mask, a small smile curved the corner of his lip. The elder Spencer swallowed around the sudden lump that had formed in his throat, blinking rapidly, and replied, "Love you too, Shawn."

Shawn sighed contentedly and fell into a deep sleep. Henry watched him for another minute or so before quietly closing the door. As he walked down the hall, he breathed a silent prayer of thanks, wiping at his eyes.

* * *

Gus silently shut the door after entering the room. Shawn was still sleeping peacefully, his breathing deep and even. Gus smiled faintly as he slid into the chair that Henry had vacated a few hours before. He had dropped by the elder Spencer's house earlier to pick up a change of clothes, like he had been for the last week and a half, only to find Henry in a deep sleep on his couch. Gus had immediately turned around and left, knowing that the former cop really had to be out of it if someone could walk in without him waking up.

"That'd better be pineapple."

Gus' head jerked up to look Shawn straight in the eyes. The hazel orbs were still a little out of focus from the sleep and the drugs, but at least they were open. "Hey, buddy," Gus greeted, holding out the small Styrofoam cup. Shawn accepted it eagerly, tugging the mask off his face. "I didn't get you too much - I don't think your stomach could handle a lot, what with all of the drugs you've been taking. If all those side effects hit you, your nausea would have nausea."

"That's why I'm glad you work with meds, pal. I dunno what I'd do without you," Shawn said gratefully, talking a small sip. His stomach churned slightly, unaccustomed to food for awhile, but it was manageable.

"How're you feeling?" Gus asked after a moment. "And don't give me any crap," he added sternly.

Shawn rolled his eyes. "Not bad, except for when I breathe, move, or talk," he replied. When Gus' eyes widened, he added hastily, "Seriously, dude, not bad. I'm sure it's the drugs, but I'm not too bad off. Seriously."

Gus sighed, his eyes searching his friend's face. "You scared me to death, Shawn."

Shawn frowned slightly. "I seem to have done that to a lot of people. Sorry," he muttered apologetically.

"I know it's not your fault," Gus replied. He smirked faintly. "I was just worried I might actually have to start going to work for a full shift if you weren't around to pull me out to solve some ridiculous case."

"Well, it's good to know I'm good for something," Shawn replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes again.

"I thought you were gonna die. You almost did, Shawn. You almost died."

The words were so quiet, Shawn almost didn't hear them. He took another small sip of his smoothie as he looked at Gus. "Lean in," he suddenly said, waving a finger.

Gus raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Is this gonna be a repeat of the first time you got drunk?"

"Dude, come on! We were sixteen!"

"Seventeen, Shawn. We were seventeen," Gus shot back.

"No, _you_ were seventeen. I was sixteen. Besides, do you see alcohol, shaving cream, or Danni Anderson in the vicinity? I don't think so. So lean in," Shawn ordered.

Gus sighed and obeyed. "What?"

He blinked in surprise when Shawn suddenly placed a hand on his head, a serious look on his face. "I'm right here, dude. I'm not going anywhere. At least, not until we're ninety. You wanna know how I know that?"

"Cuz you're psychic?" Gus asked sarcastically.

"Cuz I know you got my back, bro."

Gus froze, his eyes wide. Finally he smiled. "And I know you got mine."

"Right!" Shawn exclaimed triumphantly, letting his hand slide off Gus' head as he leaned back into his pillows and drank more smoothie. "You got my back, and I got yours, so we're all set! We'll live full and prosperous lives… well, okay, I'll just have a full life, you'll be the full _and_ prosperous one-"

"Got that right," Gus muttered with a smirk.

"- we'll annoy Lassie until we finally get him to open up and smile more than once in a blue moon-"

"You're on your own with that one."

"- and we'll live until we're ninety-six, and we'll play cards in the retirement home every day," Shawn finished with a grin, waving his smoothie around in the air violently.

"Shawn, I am never, never, _ever_ playing cards with you again. Not after that strip poker incident."

"Gus, that was seventh grade! And you didn't even get all the way naked."

"No, but Betty Harris never hung out with me after that," Gus replied.

"You would've thought a girl with four older brothers would've seen Superman boxers before," Shawn said thoughtfully.

"Sweet justice, if that's what you two are talking about, I really don't think I want to even be in the same building."

"Lassie!" Shawn exclaimed brightly as the Head Detective entered, Juliet right on his heels. "And Jules! Glad to see you dragged him out of the office." Juliet grinned.

"She did _not_ drag me out of the office, Spencer, we were simply on the way to a scene and-"

"You actually stopped to see me? Lassie, I'm flattered!" Shawn cut in cheekily. Juliet and Gus both smiled as Lassiter rolled his eyes.

"You're obviously just as annoying as ever," the older man muttered, leaning against a back wall.

"How're you feeling, Shawn?" Juliet asked, settling herself at the foot of his bed.

Shawn sipped his smoothie and gave a one-armed shrug. "All right," he replied truthfully, his face turning slightly serious. "They made me move my leg earlier, which hurt like a - well, it hurt a lot. But the doctor thinks it'll heal up alright."

"That's only if you stay in bed as long as your supposed to," Gus warned. "Which I know you won't. We'll have to strap you down or something."

"I've got plenty of sets of handcuffs to donate to the cause," Lassiter piped up immediately.

Shawn opened his mouth, paused, then smirked. "Lassie, out of the goodness of my heart, I will not even touch that one." Lassiter snorted. Shawn's eyes moved to Juliet's face. "You're really okay?"

Juliet smiled and nodded. "I was only a little sore for awhile. Anyway," she added, glancing at her watch, "we need to get going. Lassiter's right, - we really were on our way to a scene. Nothing major, just a little break in," she added hurriedly as Shawn's eyes lit up eagerly. "We can handle it just fine without you."

"Probably better," Lassiter muttered. Shawn stuck out his lip in an extremely child-like pout.

"You just focus on getting better, okay?" Juliet continued, shooting Lassiter an icy glare.

"Yes, m-ma'am," Shawn replied, his left-handed salute ruined by his yawn.

"But take your time doing it, Spencer," Lassiter added as Juliet stood. "Seriously."

"Love you, too, Lassie!" Shawn called as the detectives headed to the door. "Bye, Jules!"

"See you, Shawn," Juliet replied softly, glancing over her shoulder to grin at him. The heart monitor sped up slightly, causing Gus to roll his eyes.

"Oh, and Lassiter?"

Lassiter paused, startled at the full use of his last name. "What, Spencer?"

Shawn grinned broadly. "You owe me a coffee."

Lassiter snorted. "One foot barely out of the grave or not, I will _not_ buy you any thing with caffeine or sugar, Spencer. Ever." He shut the door, effectively drowning out Gus' laughter and Shawn's spluttering.

"You know you missed that," Juliet said as they waited for the elevator at the end of the hall.

Next to her, Lassiter shifted subtly. "I plead the fifth," he mumbled finally. Juliet grinned, but didn't say anything.

It was great to have things returning to normal.

_A/N: Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed that! There's still a short epilogue coming up tomorrow, but that's basically the end. Please, please, let me know what you thought of this - I really do love reviews! See you tomorrow!_

_moogsthewriter_


	12. And They All Lived Happily Even Lassi

_Alright! Here's the very last chapter! Let me begin by apologizing once more to **VampKira** for not giving her props - she's the one that came up with the American Sign Language stuff for Henry, Gus, and Shawn I featured in the last chapter - not me. Her stories are awesome - go check them out! Psychfic is wonderful, people!_

_I've also got a few review responses to give, so..._

_**hollowgirl22** - Glad to hear it! _:)_ Enjoy this last chapter!_

_**Psychfan81692** - Hey, that's okay - I totally know what life can do to a person, trust me. Glad you like it, and don't worry... I've got more stories coming up eventually! (Just not as regularly.)_

_**mav32** - Hey, twin, that's okay - I totally did the same thing to some other stories here when I discovered it. It's absolutely wonderful, isn't it? Best site EVER. As for your story - I would love to hear it. I don't get asked to beta a whole ton, and I always have a fun time when I do, so just send me a PM (you can do that on my profile) and let me know what you're thinking. (Since we're long-lost twins, I bet it's the same thing. _:o)

_**TwilightG** - Lol. You crack me up, really. Thanks - glad it made you happy!_

_**Saucy-Duck** - Or should I call you GreenTea now? _;o)_ I'm glad you thought this story was good enough to read/review twice - that's a great honor for me, really, it is. I'm glad you're also taking the time to notice the little details - that kind of feedback is what I live for. Thanks so much!_

_And as I wrap everything up, I just wanna give all of you readers out there a big (virtual) hug - you have made this a wonderful experience. I promise, if you leave me a review with an e-mail address, I promise to respond to them after this chapter. Thanks so much, and enjoy!_

_

* * *

_

**And They All Lived Happily... Even Lassie**

_Six Months Later_

"And you knew that Robbie was coming home, so you knew you had to find a way to get rid of the body!"

"I swear, if you don't shut up, I WILL SHOOT YOU!"

"Shawn! Listen to the pretty lady and shut your mouth before you get an extra pair of holes in your head!" Gus hissed, his eyes wide as he stared at his best friend. Shawn merely laughed as the brunette ground the barrel of the gun deeper into his temple.

"Listen, Lisa, you don't want to do this," Juliet said soothingly, keeping her own weapon trained in the direction of the pair.

"I would," Lassiter muttered under his breath, sighting down the barrel of his gun as the murderess' eyes flicked back and forth between the officers in front of her and the psychic.

"Not helping!" Juliet hissed.

"He ruined everything! EVERYTHING!" Lisa shrieked. "No one would've found Jake's body if he hadn't pointed it out! I had everything planned out perfectly, and he ruined it!"

"I tend to do that a lot," Shawn quipped cheerily.

Juliet's eyes narrowed. Shawn's eyes were shrouded with pain, and she didn't miss the way he was trying not to grab at his right leg. "Just let him go, Lisa. You've already killed one man - there's no need to have another death on your conscience."

"You think I feel guilty?" Lisa exclaimed, choking out a laugh. Gus tensed as the gun started jerking around slightly. "Jake was a lying, two-timing slime ball. And Robbie was in love with me - he just didn't want to hurt Jake's feelings."

"So you killed his brother just so you could be together?" Gus and Shawn asked at the same time. Gus couldn't hold back a small smile as Shawn grinned at him.

"You just don't understand!" Lisa cried, tears springing to her eyes. Lassiter tensed when he saw the woman's finger trembling on the trigger. "You just don't understand!"

"Spencer, I swear, if you get yourself shot on your third case back, I will kill you," the detective hissed, his eyes locking with Shawn's for a brief moment. Shawn shrugged helplessly, choking slightly as the woman's forearm dug into his throat more.

Lisa's eyebrows knit together in confusion. "What? What are you talking about?" she asked, her shoulders relaxing slightly.

It was just the opportunity Shawn had been waiting for. He snapped his head back so that the back of his head collided with the killer's nose. There was a sharp crack, and Lisa screamed in pain, stumbling backwards and clutching at her face. Blood was already spurting out of both nostrils.

Lassiter sprang forward, whipping out his handcuffs to arrest the woman as Juliet yanked Shawn out of the way. "I thought we told you to not get involved in anything too serious!" Juliet scolded, tilting Shawn's head to the side to examine the bruise that was starting to form on his jaw from where Lisa had originally punched him to subdue him.

Shawn jerked his head slightly and bent down to kiss her lightly on the lips. "I knew you had my back, Jules," he whispered with a smile. Juliet blinked and grinned. "And you, too, Gus," the psychic hastily amended when Gus coughed.

"Spencer! O'Hara! Save it for off the clock. You should remember that after three freaking months," Lassiter called loudly as McNabb and another officer escorted Lisa away. Shawn and Juliet pulled apart as Lassiter stalked towards them. "And just what the hell were you thinking, Spencer? If Guster hadn't called us before he followed you in here, you could've ended up with a bullet in your brain!" the detective ranted. "Of all the stupid, idiotic-"

"Missed you, too, Lassie!" Shawn cut in cheekily, taking a step forward. His eyes suddenly widened as his leg buckled underneath him.

"Shawn, how many times am I going to have to tell you to use the crutch?" Gus asked exasperatedly, rushing forward to grab the psychic under the armpits to keep him from falling flat on his face. Juliet moved to help Gus guide Shawn over to a nearby couch, her eyes wide with concern as Shawn hissed through his teeth. Even Lassiter had a slight touch of concern around his eyes.

"It was just a little twinge, guys," Shawn replied, kneading the muscles of his right thigh. "I moved wrong, that's all."

"Shawn, maybe you should put the brace back on," Juliet said. "You shouldn't be pushing it."

"I already told you, I'm fine," Shawn answered. "It doesn't hardly even hurt anymore."

"If I get any more calls from the physical therapist that you've been pushing it too far, I may strap you down, Shawn," Gus told him sternly.

"And I won't hesitate to tell the Chief she shouldn't give you any more cases for a while," Lassiter added. He smirked when Shawn's head snapped up to look at him. "Actually, I would rather enjoy that."

"Fine, fine, I'll take it easy, if it makes you all happy," Shawn told them with a loud sigh.

"It'll make me saner," Gus muttered, making Lassiter snort. Juliet chuckled at the shocked looks on both Gus' and Shawn's faces.

"We need to get back to the station, O'Hara," Lassiter declared smoothly, ignoring the looks he was getting. "And Spencer, I do not want to see your face around the station for three days. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," Shawn replied cheekily. "Doesn't mean I'll listen, but it's clear!" Lassiter's jaw clenched noticeably, and he rolled his eyes as he turned away.

Gus didn't miss the small smile pulling at the older man's lips, however.

As Juliet moved to follow her partner, Shawn got to his feet and grabbed her wrist. "Pick you up tonight at eight?" he murmured, tucking a stray hair behind her ear.

"Better make it nine. Your little stunt just added in another hour of paper work," Juliet replied. She smirked as she kissed him on the cheek. "And you'd better be prepared to make it up to me," she whispered in his ear.

"I'll make sure to have steak," Shawn told her with a roll of his eyes. He shot Gus a little look, causing his friend to stop mid-fake gag.

"That's a start, Spencer," Juliet answered with a grin. "I'll need an awesome cake, too. And roses wouldn't hurt."

"Sometime today, O'Hara!" Lassiter called, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "Make out with your boyfriend on your own time!"

Juliet rolled her eyes and giggled. "See you later!" she said, turning to head out of the house.

"Now you're trying to take my girlfriend, too, Lassie?" Shawn called to the detective standing in the doorway. "You still owe me that coffee!"

"Never gonna happen, Spencer!" Lassiter shot back as he held the door for Juliet. "Never in a million years!"

As he shut the door, he caught a glimpse of Spencer and Guster laughing and pounding fists like they always did. He rolled his eyes and headed towards his car. A thought crossed his mind, and a small smile curved his lips as he opened the car door.

Across from him, Juliet caught the smirk. "What're you thinking?"

"That Spencer's an absolute idiot," Lassiter replied, starting the car up.

"He is," Juliet conceded with a nod, buckling in as the car backed out of the driveway. Her eyes flicked over to the door where Gus was helping Shawn out to their own car. She smiled and added, "But life is never dull when Shawn's around, that's for sure."

Lassiter grunted in reply. He knew exactly what his partner was talking about. Having Spencer hanging around again meant that his days were going to be filled with the psychic's rather… unusual… forms of spontaneity. And as they drove away, the hardened detective realized something rather shocking.

He didn't mind. He didn't mind it one bit.

_A/N: They grow up so fast, don't they? There you have it - the end. Keep an eye out for more stories later (some of you already picked on them elsewhere) because more are definitely coming. Thanks so much for reading!_

_moogsthewriter_


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